Let's Begin Again (discontinued)
by SCBM
Summary: Ryder, fresh meat to the Mojave, finds himself in company of one of the most vicious beasts to walk the land, a Deathclaw. He is forced to raise it, and could it have picked a stupider person to imprint on? To survive they must gather allies, all the way from robot geniuses to drug-induced animals, to combat the Purifiers that want to burn the Mojave back to the Old World ways.
1. Chapter 1: Strange Friends

**Strange Friends**

 **1**

He's not the brightest man in the wastes, far from it.

He came from a long line of caravaners. The founder – Verl –lived in an underground vault on the east coast, in a city once known as 'New Yawk'. After the bombs fell, Verl set out to become one of the most prominent independent traders across the wastes for more than two hundred years.

To carry on his legacy for all those years, he met a lovely dame – a lone wanderer of the ruins of the earth – and they had two kids. These two kids would take on their parents roles, and continue the caravan of Verl, known as the 'Vees Knees'.

The caravan was one big family, taking on spouses from the communities they passed, so to keep the bloodline flowing, keeping the name alive was serious, the children couldn't go a day without pressure from the parents to find someone to partner with.

The Pitt, Washington, Rock Falls, Canyon City, all parts of the Midwestern Brotherhood knew the traders by heart, and knew their faces from afar.

Vees Knees carried on westward, now at a high of ten men and women and a few children, along with three Brahmin. These all the direct descendants of Verl, all travelling and trading together like one big happy family.

They crossed to the land of the Legion, the great expanse of territory stretched on forever. North, east, south, west, nothing but the red robes of countless men: rapists, defilers, butchers and murderers, all of them.

At least the raiders were nonexistent.

Not the same as the land of NCR, the New California Republic – on the west coasts – which the lands were nothing _but_ raiders, these raiders all being rapists, killers, murderers etc.

It only got worse under the flag of the Bear.

Taxes killed them, raiders killed them, the general instability in the land _itself_ killed them, but the elders of the VK's were determined to push through it all in the name of Verl.

And die for it.

One by one, each member of the caravan was lost to the wastes, and the once happy family was torn asunder. First it was the old, then their kids, then _their_ kids. Eventually only the bottom three of the bloodline remained. Even two of the two-headed Brahmin weren't safe from blades nor bullets. As one lonely night someone had come and slit there twin-headed throats open - for whatever reason.

Each passing second in NCR was a struggle for survival, a war without end.

So was left a mother, a father, a kid – a dull one – and a Brahmin, left to walk the roads, lowest in numbers since they could remember.

The kids name was Ryder, and he wasn't too bright of a man. Calling him man or kid was always a debate with no end, he was only a year off from the big twenty, but his parents never saw that factor. They only saw a boy, all they ever would.

His loving, religious mother, and his loving, irreverent father.

 _God chose to give you unto me, and you are my gift to this terrible world. Though you could've been a bit more smart…_

 _I don't know what gave you such a thick head, but I know it won't last, I love ya kid, but you need to step up, read or something, don't listen to that mumbo jumbo about 'God' and do it yourself._

It was a wonder his parents ever stayed together long enough to have a child.

One day the three of them (plus the Brahmin) found themselves on one of the biggest successful trade roads; Long 15. Connecting from The Hub of NCR all the way to Primm and beyond, back east.

And like roaches drawn to light, they found themselves with wide O shaped mouths as they stared to the north of that road, at the borders of NCR in an outpost on a hill.

The city of New Vegas.

The first word in the dad's head was: _Trade!_

The kid however was busy reading an old pre-war book, albeit not successfully, but he was trying. His face mere inches from the third page. It was titled 'Milsurp Review'.

Despite the tremendous distances the kid walked, he was no Beach Bully, but rather your Average Joe or a Lightweight in terms of muscular appearance, he wore a black combat vest and long dark jeans with protective shin pads, lines of bullets and magazines were donned across his chest and belt like small arcs of smiles. Strapped over his shoulders, draping out behind him, was a long midnight cloak, with two large shoulder pads on top. His collar stood up like a Mantis on its hind legs, covering his neck.

Not an inch of skin wasn't covered by his gear.

He had found this armour on a dead man in NCR, along with his first _real_ weapon that his parents called a _.45 Auto_. Real as in, not a BB gun which couldn't hurt a Gecko.

The armour was pre-war, as was most things, but this one was military-grade, a rare find, one that made even his father a little jealous. Who wore a sheriff's duster with a long green cloak and a wide brimmed hat, 12 gauges of death on his back.

"Not another city, I'm getting on in my years, we all are." said mum.

"You two may see more walking, but I see opportunity!" said dad.

His mother and father argued then and there, on the slope that lead down into the Mojave Desert's clutches. Ryder half listened, half read all the while, to the conversation which would shred there family apart, and of course, the caravan.

 **2**

There Ryder stood, on the edge of Quarry Junction, the thought of his 'brightlessness' came into his head again. What the hell was he thinking? All of this work, was it really worth it?

Oh yes, it will be.

Mantis eggs, Radscorpion eggs, Gecko eggs, Nightstalker's and Cazador's, they were the trials, this was the test.

Deathclaw eggs.

Six, seven, ten foot tall lizard beasts with arms and legs with talons that could rip open flesh with little effort. Fangs that chomp, eyes that burn, talons that stab. And Ryder was going to go into the quarry, and take a dozen or so eggs from the nest.

Not even a month since his first steps on Mojave dirt, and _this_ was what he was doing. Not the brightest of ideas.

He stood in the grand opening of the rock quarry, legs slightly wide, arms crossed, cloak flickering off to the left from the northern winds, eyes facing west. The ground was barren apart from a few clumps of lucky grass that hadn't been killed from the death in the air.

The open pit of limestone stretched out like a giant crater. The rounded edges were shaped like big rocky stairs to the heavens. Giant metal beasts littered the ground floor, huge single digit arms stretched out of their sides, carrying buckets with claws.

In Ryder's left hand was his helmet, black, half gas mask, half helmet, with two dark red eyes that stared back at him, a million tiny scratches sliced across the glass eyes, the elements were tough, but luck had made the gear tougher.

He wiped each eye with a slow stroke of his thumb, and placed it over his head, concealing his skin with the intimidating mask. Protruding from the side of the helmet was a small antenna, connected to a small box with a few dials and switches. This was used for mostly radio chatter, but right now, it had no use.

Under his right arm was his _.45_ , The wooden stock protruding out from the side of his cloak, the barrel pointed backwards. With both hands he un-holstered it, and checked his ammo. About seven rectangular magazines scattered themselves in and around his armour. They weren't drum's, so only thirty bullets were in each one.

It was as much as he could find, buy and make in such times.

"I'll be right." he said to himself, bringing back the bolt atop the gun. That 'New Yawk Accent' never leaving a single member of his family's vocals untouched.

Slowly, carefully, he walks forward.

Grass tufts dotted the ground before him in the quarry, two paths, one high one low, on his right and left, were split apart by a bundle of grey rocks that made a small cliff between them.

Almost on tip toe, he takes the slope upwards. To his left below the rocks was a metal beast crumpled to the ground, almost like a giant dead snake, if its bones were metal, and its blood, oil.

At the sound of a rumbling throat, he whips his head round to his front. Another smaller metal beast greeted him, but behind its metallic wheels was an _actual_ beast. It hunched over menacingly, fangs bared.

Ryder had seen a fair share of these things, this one was rather small, but size didn't matter, to Deathclaw's, at least.

There weakness?

The head. Obviously.

Before the beast could lunge, his rifle was already lined up perfectly with its fat scaly head, and he fired.

He only clenched his finger for a second, and half of his bullets were already flying high and far. The recoil would have been insane, had his gear not compensated for him. Something in the material, he guessed.

No matter how long he had been firing this gun, the speed would always surprise him.

Perhaps the Deathclaw was surprised as well, as its eyes burned bright for a second, before its whole form slapped to the ground. Its face a big mess of red and unrecognisable flesh.

Without reloading, he steps over the dead beast, and continues onwards, his feet carried him close to the small cliff that oversaw the flat open grounds of the quarry. A giant hut-like building that sat on a mess of scaffolding dominated the area, four long arms like cables came out of each side, all of it rusted to hell.

A small earthen ramp led off his vantage point, and about thirty meters from the ramps base, a Deathclaw was charging, all four limbs passing gracefully over the ground like a coyote.

Aiming down the iron sights, he fires his remaining bullets at its bulky form.

This one was an adult, it was large, even at this distance.

The bullets were shrugged off, _literally_ , the thing hunched, and sped up in its chase.

Taking a small quick breath, Ryder quickly ejects the empty mag, and replaces it with a fresh one.

The pitter-patter of its feet was getting louder and closer.

Looking up, the beast was just about to reach the ramp. His eyes went wide, and he quickly sprayed down at it wildly. This time it crumpled, as if its legs were broken. So it lay on its side, huffing wildly in pain, not dead, but disabled permanently.

Behind _that_ , was two rather tiny Deathclaw's, no bigger than his leg, they mimicked its parent, and charged to him, right in the open.

He made quick work of them, and stuck to the high ground, his steps speeding up every time his feet planted down.

He drops his mag, and slides a new one in.

Up ahead was another metal beast, this one coated in red, on its side was '235T' in bright white writing that contrasted the dark coat of red. It was almost floating off the cliff edge, the front wheels weren't touching ground.

He squatted behind its back wheels, and looked out over the quarries expanse.

Two pools of water, one off to the far left near two of those hut-like buildings, the other pool was directly beneath his cliff, which was only ten or so meters high. Not too far beyond this pool was a small cave, looking like a barrel of a gun in the quarry cliff face.

That's where the eggs are.

But between him and there, was only a few more Deathclaw's.

 _Only,_ meaning, not quite a dozen, most of them adults, one of them, like the big granddaddy of them all.

This one was twice as large as any adult, horns the size of his arms, _its_ arms were burly, and would put even the strongest of humans to shame. It looked quite literally like the devil itself, with those dark horns on its forehead, his mum would be shrieking.

And so was he, silently, behind his helmet.

 _Just look at those nails!_

Nails like swords, and its dark green skin stood out among the usual tannish shade of a normal Deathclaw's.

This was no normal Deathclaw.

All eyes were on Ryder, and he gave the smallest _Eep!_ Before baring his rifle down to them.

He fired, went wild in his aim, and despite the range, and his racing mind, he did manage to knock out two of the adults, lucky shots hit their eyes and blinded them, making them crawl on the ground in pain.

The rest charged, the granddaddy covering the rear. A fifty or so meter stretch of running was all that stood between Ryder and those deadly talons, and teeth, especially those teeth.

That path was to the right of the cave, up a slope, then a home stretch to the big red beast Ryder crouched next to.

Like some crazed junky on Psycho, he made a huge arc of gunfire rain down on the charging devils, the gun was just below his head, but his aim was well enough. Another two at the front of the pack fell, but disappointingly, the others didn't trip on their corpses. They merely jumped and soared over and around them.

They were already halfway in there charge to him.

Taking the initiative, he clips his gun back on his underarm sheath, and begins ascending the red beast, first the wheels, then the chassis itself.

One of his steps was three of theirs.

He stood atop the beast now, one hand griping a long pipe that protruded from the top, the other hand reattached to his gun – almost automatically – and wasted no time in firing from his vantage. Looking like some mobster defending his turf.

One more went down, only three were left, one of them being _The Big One_.

His gun was dry, and the barrel clicked in unsatisfying rhythm's, as he didn't comprehend the sound straight away.

Ryder spun wildly, and went the only way he could.

Up.

The arm of the red giant was made of a hundred metal bars, each was crisscrossed over each other infinitely, and with newfound haste, Ryder scaled the arm, one bar after the other.

Right where he had been standing on the ground, one of the Deathclaw's smashed its head into the side of the beast. Helping it in its journey to the cliff's edge.

Threw there great size, they were slow climbers.

Ryder made a bit of ground (or air) and spun his sloped form around, back to the bars. He loaded up a fresh round of ammo, and aimed down between his legs.

The closest Deathclaw's jaws parted in surprise, just like his did when he first laid eyes on Vegas, then its eyes popped like small grenades, it tumbled off the edge quickly, arms wide in defeat as it soared weightlessly to the ground below.

Which was, by the way, _quite_ a way down.

Ryder flicked his eyes back to the matter at hand, The Big One had seemingly had enough, and had climbed over the other Deathclaw to reach him first.

And he was fresh out of ammo.

He scrambled back to his front, and continued up the arm, even _more_ faster than before, he was quite literally scurrying away like a rat.

After three seconds of climbing, Ryder stopped. He had made it to the peak of the arm rather quickly. Now he looked over to the drop below, the pool a fair bit away, and the cold, hard, limestone ground. He spun around.

The Big One was closing in, but Ryder was only half concerned about that, his thoughts asked the big question.

How heavy was this thing?

As if to confirm his suspicions, the red beast began to teeter forwards the more The Big One gained ground on him.

He put a hand forward and said, "W-Woah hold up-"

It was right on him now, it raised one hand, five scythes of death ready to kill, not even his armour could keep them away from his flesh.

Then a feeling of weightlessness overcame him (and the Deathclaw) making them freeze in place.

As one, Ryder and The Big One slowly turned their eyes back to the red beasts body, it's hind wheels were floating in the air, and the whole pre-war machine was on the biggest of slopes.

Ryder stopped peering over the beasts shoulder, and looked back to the ground again, weirdly, it seemed a bit closer now.

He slowly got up from his prone position, The Big One was still watching the red beast below, as if it _knew_ what would happen if it angled any further.

Ryder braced his arms ahead of him, almost like a boxer would, but his palms were open, and his knees, bent.

Ryder stood, making it teeter and creak further. Arm still raised, his precarious friend spun its head at him, as if to say _'What the hell are you doing?'_ , its eyes were slightly wider than before.

As if realising its preys presence, The Big One made one last desperate attempt to cut Ryder down.

Using its weight, it swiped in a great arc with such strength that the wind could be heard being cut.

Ryder jumped. But he still felt the wind pass from those swords on its hands.

Like a sandstorm, the wind ripped past his ears, despite the helmet. For one horrifying moment, he thought he hadn't jumped far enough to reach the water. But the panic passed, and he flailed his arms in small circles to reinforce his mind that he would make it.

He landed, feet first like a flying pencil, into the pool of water.

Looking up to the shimmering surface, he saw the arm was chasing him, Deathclaw as well. Coming down through the air like a giant knife.

He braced himself, covering his face with his arms, it was closing to quickly to move or swim away.

Even through the muffling of waters, he heard a thunder struck crash as the arm smashed the limestone next to his pool, not in it.

He breached the surface, gasping for air, the helmet made it difficult, but he managed. He went for the edge, clawing his way out of the stench of the water, it tasted bitter in his mouth, he wondered what had or still was in it.

On his knees and hands, he coughed up a small amount of quarry water, removing his mask only for a moment.

Another low rumbling of a throat drew his attention.

Pinned beneath the arm of the red beast was The Big One itself, in all its fallen glory. One leg was mangled beyond recognition, its chest poured a fountain of crimson liquid, and one arm was bending the wrong way. All of it crushed beneath the metal bars of the arm.

It was dead, in a sense, mangled between the countless bars, a cruel fate.

Those lights in its eyes were fading, but were still filled with hate for the human that killed it.

Raising his head, Ryder saw the last Deathclaw, perched on the red beast like a statue, it was accompanied by two other small ones, who all stared in awe, most like. Behind them were the two blind Deathclaw's, and another, and another, the whole pack, or what remained, was perched up there.

A second later, they high tailed it back the way Ryder had come from, gone quicker than when they were charging him.

Ryder put his hands to his knees, and took some well earned deep breaths. Then ignoring The Big One, he moved on to the cave. All the while he saw no more Deathclaw's, the place was once more barren.

He reached the mouth of the cave without incident, he peered down into it and saw it wasn't even that deep.

But it was covered, walls and all, with those eggs he was here for. Most of them were hatched, but he counted one dozen hadn't.

Perfect.

Well, if one large dark blue Deathclaw wasn't laying there, arms wide to protect the back of the cave, it _would_ have been perfect.

He had a feeling that this was the mother. It was big, maybe even bigger than The Big One, and its teeth hung out of its mouth, further than the rest of its kind.

Donned on the right side of his chest was a curved sheath, in it was a knife, quite large, it got him and his caravan through a lot, and he had it for a long time.

He takes it out with one smooth motion of his hand, the rough hilt pointed down to the last Deathclaw.

Ryder curls his arm behind his shoulder, and flung his figure forward.

The blade sung as it flew through the air.

With deadly precision, the right eye of the Deathclaw Mother was replaced by his blade, it groaned, and fell backwards, dead.

Silence passed.

He had done it, he had cleared the quarry, and gotten the eggs.

From behind his cloak, he protruded a large bundle of rope, a net, given to him by his contractor.

Like picking food off a farm, Ryder bundles clutches of eggs into the net, counting in his head as he did so (he plucked his knife from the mothers eye, like a fork stuck in a chewy piece of meat.)

On the twelfth egg – his goal – he noticed there were still three or so unhatched eggs around him. He wondered if he should crush them. Then the thought changed, crush them, kill them, murder the unborn.

Then his eyes laid upon the lifeless one of the mother. He _had_ technically murdered a family, like NCR did to his.

He pondered a while, thinking hard.

Minute's passed, then he was walking out of the quarries entrance, a net of eggs slung over his shoulder.

Behind him, in the cave, was life.

 **3**

The long road he walked across was Interstate 15, but most called it I-15 for short. It was the New Vegas extension of Long 15, running through the Mojave and past Vegas itself. It went all the way north beyond that, all the way to Zion, where his father had gone.

But a few miles down beyond 'Quarry Junction', Ryder walked on into the Vegas outskirts, which were anything but a war zone at most times, but on this day the sounds of bullets were asleep, and he passed war torn streets without much activity.

Normally, Fiends, junkie driven maniacs, would be having fire fights with NCR, who should have been able to clear out the junkies with all their military might, but for unknown reasons, they hadn't as of yet.

He knew this because he passed two of them on the way to his destination.

One man and one woman. They wore skulls of animals on their heads, and minimal armour on their bodies. The woman, an old saggy hag, had two teapots covering her breasts, and other bits of kitchen-wear covered smaller sections of her, all of it tied together by thin rope. The man wore similar, but his teapots were between the spot on his legs.

They didn't wear much, agility, you see.

"Lookie ere'!" The old croaky voice of the woman called out, even though it was just her and the man junkie. "How about you's-"

"Can it." he called right back at them, removing his helmet as he did so, so as his face was seen and recognised. "Or Motor-Runner will have your heads."

Their eyes – as expected – went wide with who they saw.

"Oh shit!" the man said, standing stupidly in the middle of the road in front of him. "Let's go!"

They left into the alleys without another word.

Ryder walked on, the bright dazzling lights of Vegas high on his right. A giant tower shaped like a big roulette spinner dominated the skies.

A huge barricade made from cars, trucks and odd sheets of metal stopped his trek into Westside. Westside was, in fact, the Western outskirts of Vegas, people lived in these crumpled buildings, and all they had were these shoddy barricades to keep the Fiends out.

But Westside had numbers, and hunters, and of course, Red Lucy.

She sent him out there in the first place.

In the centre of the barricade was a small gate he pushed open. Westside was like one giant X, ruins were renamed houses, and the shops were closed for the night. The streets were barren, save for the drunk in the centre of the X, who never seemed to move from that spot, Ryder noticed.

Readjusting his sack (the egg sack), he approaches the drunk, who waves his bottle in greeting.

He mumbled something, and Ryder mumbled right back. The hunkered drunk laughed, and waved him on.

The drunk leant against a post of a sign, said sign had two words stitched together in crude red letters.

The Thorn.

Below the sign and next to the drunk, was a sewer hatch.

With undying effort, he forced the sack of eggs in first, careful not to break them, and followed after them.

 **4**

The Thorn was the real life-force of Westside.

A giant pit dominated the underground, where humans and animals battled to the death against each other. The winners would win glory, and the spectators would win caps on bets, and get some entertainment in this dead world.

Metal walkways sprawled in great circles around the fighting pit, legs dangled off them, arms were high, mouths were cheering. Might've been a hundred people watching the fight right now.

The fight was two Radscorpion's, up against two burly men (he had seen them before, Bear Brothers) who wielded giant sledgehammers in each hand.

The tails of the animals stung, the crowd cheered, the sledges squashed, the people cheered more, but when blood spilt, that was when things went downright insane.

That was, after all, what The Thorn was made for, blood.

Normally one would never be able to pass through the dense walkways, but when they saw the sack of Deathclaw eggs, they parted like waves.

They would mutter at him, "Its Deathclaw ones…" or "How did he…" and he would always have that smug face behind his mask.

Like a goddess of war among men, Red Lucy watched over the fight from her perch. Her hair was that of fire, and her curvy, perfect body was covered by a much too tight duster, she sat cross legged on an overdesigned chair – giving a freakishly similar curvature of a large hand – her black boots tapping in time with the drums in the background.

Ryder came up from behind Red Lucy's chair, carefully bypassing her guards and placing the bag of eggs behind her.

The crowd returned there gazes back to the fight, forgetting the hunter who brought them there entertainment.

"I've brought you the Deathclaw eggs." Ryder said, a bit of excitement in his tone.

She turned her head slightly and examined the eggs, her eyes were wide, but she suppressed them a second later.

"You've, indeed, become the greatest hunter The Thorn has ever seen, the best I've ever seen." Ryder could hear a bit of shock and unbelieving doubt in her lustful voice.

"And you thought I couldn't do it."

"You've surprised me, and for that, you've earned the honour of being part of this sacred ground. Come to me often and I'll share with you the wealth of The Thorn."

"And the wealth of many other things, I imagine?"

"Your bravery surpasses that of any other, and I've come to admire your actions. I would know you deeper, Come with me… My Hunter."

She stood up, and walked along a walkway and up some stairs (swinging?). And like a dog, Ryder followed.

She led him to the far reaches of The Thorn, behind the spectators, beyond the cages, and into the living quarters. Specifically, Lucy's living quarters.

He entered after her, and she made sure the door was locked behind him.

She closed the distance between them, pressing her body to his, whispering into his ear very slowly.

"Even the strongest creatures need their rest, and their companionship, I've been looking forward to this."

She turns around (just in time to avoid his leaning head) and slowly walks into the depths of her quarters. She spoke true, and deep down, ever since he got the second set of eggs, that she was all over him from then on out. He shadowed her, eyes on nothing but her figure that swayed with each step she took.

There was a lone light above the door behind him, and it illuminated half the room, on the cusp of the light was a switch on the right wall, Lucy – with a flick of her hand – switches on the lone switch, and two red beams of light from the ceiling spew down into the darkness, revealing a king sized bed, with dark crimson sheets covering the softest looking bed he had ever seen.

He didn't think she was one for setting the mood.

He only stared at the bed for a second, failing to notice how quickly Red Lucy had stripped down to her undergarments. Her legs were bare, as were her arms. Only the thinnest layer of a silky red dress was between him and her.

She slowly laid down on the bed on her side, facing him. Legs bent, arms moving swiftly across the sheets surface, beckoning him to her, the effect was dizzying.

"Come, my hunter."

First his cloak, then his vest, then his boots, helmet, pants, everything. So fast he surprised himself. He tossed it all aside in one great pile of mess, and joined her with much conviction.

She rode him all night long, climaxing atop him over and over again and shrieking his name, her fingers were at a constant intertwining of his own, so much so that it pained him. They held each other as tightly as they could, breathing into each other's mouths, living on each other's breaths. The clean pretty mattress below them became indented with the force of two great hunters.

Though when he went to kiss her, she would always pull away. It wouldn't bother him now but...

Something told Ryder, as he was ridden, that he wouldn't get much rest tonight.

It was worth it.

 **5**

He awoke against Lucy's bare form, her skin as silky as the dress she wore before. His grey eyes took in every part of her, she was quite literally a work of art.

And he bedded her, or maybe she bedded him, either way, he felt so goddamn lucky right now. The Thorn was one of the biggest sources of money making in the Mojave, exception to the casino's, and the leader was laying down with him right now. All he had to do was kill off Deathclaw's with an exceptional rifle.

Thinking of said rifle, he wanted to take in its glory, thank it with his eyes, but when he examined the pile of his gear beside the bed, there was no lump of wood and steel to be seen.

Confused, he slowly separates himself from Lucy, and lifts his legs up and over to the ground, inspecting the pile closer.

No _.45_ in sight.

He squats down, and began rummaging the pile, not caring how much noise he made.

No gun.

"Where the-"

The water.

When he lifted himself to the surface out of the quarry pool, he did feel a bit lighter, had the gun dropped in there?

He takes a sharp breath in, letting it out with a curt groan.

"What is it?" came Lucy's voice from behind him.

"I left something behind, doesn't matter now."

"Your gun? I was wondering why you didn't have it. You can go get it then, we're done here."

He turns his head to her, she had already begun fastening her duster back to her body whilst slipping on one of her boots.

"What do you mean? I thought we…" he trails off, unsure of what to say.

"We wanted to know one another deeper, now we have, besides, the Thorn is closed today, I have things to take care of. Eggs and all."

She walked over to him, who was silent all the while. She ran a hand through his short jet black hair, then traced his features with careful fingertips. It was her way of calming down her animals and friends, and it worked on her subjects to.

Even Ryder calmed down slightly.

She traced the tattoo on Ryder's left eye, it was a curly 'V' shape, that went half below his eyes, half onto his eyebrow, the whole shape was on the slightest of angles.

"You never told me what this means." she stated, tracing the V with delicacy.

"No, I didn't."

"No need to be sour. Our love was sweet my hunter, but our passion will have to wait, the Thorn demands attention."

She had used him like one of her animals, and his use was over, that was what he heard out of her mouth. He felt slightly disgusted, even after the hot connection of their bodies, he had thought they would be something, maybe make his stupid parents proud that he had found someone to continue the bloodline with.

Red Lucy would've been perfect.

Would have.

"Here." She un-holsters her hunting shotgun, coated in yellow and black stripes, along with two boxes of ammo for it. "For your contribution, come back anytime."

"Yeah, right."

He only half heard the last part, he was busy pocketing his ammo, and slinging the shotgun around his left shoulder.

She left him there, off to count his eggs he stole from the animals families, those eyes of the Deathclaw mother came to him as he closed his eyes to think of what to do now. Those eyes filled with protectiveness of its unborn young, he imagined it was just like a human mother, kids and all.

Kids he stole.

The _.45 auto_ came to his head, although the shotgun was powerful no doubt, but the _.45_ was like no other, and he wanted it back.

Strapping on his gear, he passes the Thorns pit in silence. Lucy waved at him near one of the cages where the animals were kept in.

He didn't wave back.

 **6**

Back on I-15 now, eyes and body facing south, now in reverse. The Fiends had their break, and the sounds of gunfire echoed all around him. He slipped by easily, them and NCR were to focused on killing each other to even notice him walk past.

On the open road between the Vegas outskirts and the hills where Quarry Junction lay was a long open flat plain of nothing, barren apart from a long railway line that once carried things called 'trains'. Trains where apparently these bullet shaped cars that could go faster than any vehicle, as long as these tracks were present and powered.

Yeah, right.

Ryder looked left, the railway went on forever, past old buildings that were homes to raiders and other scavengers. A massive dark mountain – called Black Mountain – dominated that side. To his right was Red Rock canyon, home to the Great Khans, whom he was familiar with, tribal's, travellers, good fighters, too.

Ryder had quite literally no friends out here, only associates with the gangs of the Mojave. The Khans were the most friendly with him, favours and tasks with the leader 'Papa Bear' got him in the good books.

The Thorn, yes, but after that night, he would probably keep his distance from there and Lucy, he didn't like the idea of going back for a while.

He sold drugs to the Fiends, giving him free passage to them, but for how long was unknown, and he would soon be out killing them in due time. NCR knew nothing about him, nor did those big families that ran Vegas, as he never saw the inside of that great city in his time here, too expensive to get past the gates.

As for the Legion, he hadn't seen any of them, not in a long time, and not in the Mojave.

Though he was not alone in this place.

Near Red Rock was a farmstead, once filled with near do wells called Powder Gangers, he and his mother cleared them out, along with the Vault they originated from. After they were wiped out, it was the last time his mother held a gun, and picked up a rake instead.

The farmstead was a ways away to his back right, just out of eyesight, one would think it was dangerous to live out on a farm on your lonesome, but she wasn't one to forget how to use a gun, and the Khans agreed to keep the area clear for her, so Ryder wasn't concerned.

But still, he kept his distance today.

He made a small jump, passing over the railway in one motion, it had seemed the _tats_ were wearing off, as he felt slightly sluggish for just a moment of time.

He smiled at his successful leap across the tracks, but after that, he heard a rumbling that wasn't distant, but right behind him.

He turns, a small section of the dirt he was just standing on began to spew up dust. The ground began to shimmer like a water's surface.

"What the f-"

A giant light yellow pincer reached out of the ground, rising up and up, exposing its arm to the blaring sun. It was shaped like that of a _Radscorpion's_.

Sure enough, its thick carapace followed after its arm, accompanied by its head which held too many eyes, one more giant pincer as thick as a Brahmin emerged, followed by the rest of its hard body, a long tail curved over its back to finish its reveal.

Eight rather small legs, four on each side of its body, began skittering away, carrying its tail right towards him.

 _Tktktktkt_

Backing up, Ryder un-slings Lucy's shotgun from his back, points the barrel at one of its eyes, and squeezes the trigger.

 _Clk_

Lucy gave him a faulty shotgun as a reward!?

He twists the barrel around, so as to examine the other side.

Empty.

He hadn't even loaded the damn thing.

The _tats_ were definitely gone now.

Spinning like a ball on a roulette, Ryder high tailed it south, fast as his feet took him, he didn't bother loading the gun, his arms were flailing, his legs akimbo.

Each step kicked up puffs of dust as his boots took him away from the rapidly closing arachnid.

 _Tktktktk!_

The skittering of the eight legs was so close they echoed in his ears, visions of that long stinger on its back frightened him, and carried him further than he thought he could go. His breathing went heavy, fogging up the insides of his helmet with each gasp of air.

Though daring, he cast his head back quickly, the thing was so close he could reach out and touch it if he wanted.

It wasn't fair, the thing had more than twice the amount of feet then he had!

Not only that, but its stinger towered over him like those buildings in Vegas.

In a staggering motion, he chucks his knife into the eyes. It bounced off its carapace harmlessly. If his drugs hadn't worn off, he may have gotten it good.

Not now though.

One of its giant claws snagged at his leg, ripping a small tear in his pants and skin, he didn't limp, but the pain was there. His cloak flapped wildly behind him like a flag in a blazing wind.

But no matter if his skin was torn, he didn't slow down. But he could feel the hairs on his neck stick up by the feeling of the arachnids presence right behind him.

He thought about tossing his gun at it, but the sliver of his intelligence told him not to.

Through the speedy chase, man and Radscorpion found themselves up a limestone ramp in a familiar looking quarry. Ryder never knew a mutated arachnid could run for so long and not lose interest.

Ryder ran up to the red beast once more, its fallen form hadn't moved since his Deathclaw chase, and now, he would use it again to get away from another beast, on another chase.

Tossing the shotgun up first, he scales the side, using the wheels as leverages to hoist himself up. A pincer swiped at his dangling feet, but Ryder whipped out of the way at the last moment.

There he hunched, atop the toppled beast, staring down the Radscorpion, too stupid to climb after him.

Yeah, stupid alright.

"Piss off, will ya?" he said, grinning.

The arachnid simply stared back with those countless eyes.

Ryder un-slung his gun and a box of ammo from his trip to the Thorn, he counted twelve red shells in each box, and begun slotting them into his belts. Not much ammo, but he didn't expect much from Lucy.

As he slotted in six shells into the shotgun with his thumb, his eyes darted to the mutant every now and then, checking to make sure it didn't move.

And it hadn't, it just sat there stupidly, oblivious to the threat of the weapon he was loading.

On the fifth shell something rather surprising, and least expected, happened.

A Deathclaw, no higher than his knee, lunged from the right of the beast, unseen until now, it brought its hands together as if it was clapping, and imbedded its rather long claws into the Radscorpion's carapace. Then it bit on its face with its long fangs.

The Radscorpion retaliated by raising its pincers like an odd salute, making a small squeaky shriek from its invisible mouth.

It must've felt like how he did when he first came here.

Its stinger went wild, striking down this way and that, it stuck itself into the back of the little Deathclaw, but it looked as if it didn't even comprehend it.

Like two wrestlers, the mutants tumbled around on the dirt, hissing and growling. Ryder was the spectator, and he was getting his money's worth watching. He let his legs dangle off the edge of the beast, his shotgun placed across his lap.

The beasts had completely forgotten he was there.

After a minute of screeching, the Radscorpion finally succumbed to its fate, as the Deathclaw inserted four of its talons into four of its eyes to finish it off.

Funny, it took a baby Deathclaw a minute or two to kill a Radscorpion, and he had to run away from it.

The Deathclaw stared at the corpse of its fallen prey for a moment before turning to Ryder. It lifted its head to watch him, two small horns protruded its forehead like all the others, but this one was a shade of dark green, maybe blue even, that was what made this particular one stand out.

Maybe it had hatched last night, saw its fallen mother, and had simply stayed in this place, waiting for her to wake up.

A lost child.

Still though, he raises his gun, levelling it to the little Deathclaw.

In response, it tilts its head to the side, like a curious dog – or a child.

Ryder tilts his head, mimicking it. It tilts the opposite way, so does he.

It was probably thinking _'what the hell is this thing?'_

To test, Ryder gives a slow wave with his left hand, his right hand slowly lowering the barrel to get a better view.

It does the same.

One of the most feared things in this place, was waving at him, slowly increasing in speed, as if getting used to it. He sighs, then stands up.

He walked down the arm of the beast, this time on a downward slope. He jumped off at the end, bypassing The Big One's corpse as he did so.

He scans the quarry, had that little Deathclaw been alone? It looked like it, surely its parents would be…

Pattering feet behind him.

He whips around, aiming his gun, but stopped at what he saw.

The Little One was crooning the corpse of The Big One, if he was not mistaken, it made sobbing sounds, like crying, almost.

Pained, he turns away, back to the pool he fell in. Sure enough, the bottom of the water was a shade darker than the rest of the slightly murky quarry water.

Thinking ahead, he placed his new shotgun on the ground, along with his shell wraps, along with the _.45_ ammo he had left over.

He made sure the Little One was still occupied before diving in.

He emerged ten seconds later, first his arm came up, holding the rifle like a trophy, then he fully emerged to see quite a sight.

The Deathclaw had begun chewing on the butt of Lucy's gun.

"Hey! Watch it!" he called, rushing over. The thing made a small gruff of surprise, dropped the gun, and ran backwards.

Falling to his knees beside the pile of ammo, he examines the damage, it was fine, only a few light scratches could be seen. His ammo belt was there… _one_ ammo belt.

Sure enough, over one of the Little One's shoulders, was a belt of shells. He shook his head and turned his attention to the _.45_.

It was dripping wet.

He aimed high in the sky, and tested the trigger.

A series of wet clicks followed.

He loads another mag.

More clicks.

He felt like screaming in his stupidity, of course it wouldn't work, water and powder don't mix, and he was wearing all the ammo when he fell in.

"Sunofa…" he whispered, angrily staring down his now useless gun and ammo, one so powerful than any other, it made quick work of these Deathclaw's, better than a shotgun or laser rifle could, and here it was, dead like the Deathclaw's were.

He shook his head.

The Deathclaw had closed the distance slightly, still fumbling around with the cartridges with curious claws.

"Give it." he holds out a hand.

Its head went from him, to the belt, then to the shotgun on the ground, then back to him again.

He tosses the wet gun (and its ammo) to it like an offering. Quick as lightning, it chucked the belt at him, and began chewing the _.45_ , oh his dad would be pissed if he had seen this action.

Such perfect craftsmanship, such clock working in a gun like that was almost entirely unreplaceable, and now Ryder had willingly thrown it to be chewed to bits.

At least he got his ammo back, he slung it over his wet form which already begun drying in Mojave heat.

He watched the Deathclaw awhile longer, it had curled its feet up to its chest, securing its toy in its chomps.

Its eyes were locked on him while its mouth worked on the inner springs.

Ryder moved his head to the sky, the sun had come up a quarter of the way of its daily journey, he guessed the hour was maybe nine.

Leaving the Deathclaw to its toy, he turns down the path out of the quarry, he hadn't had anything to eat, and would best get going, maybe get the Radscorpion's meat and cook it up.

But as he stood before the mangled corpse of said Scorpion, he felt like screaming in anger again.

He threw the knife, didn't he? He face palmed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small figure, holding a gun. A moment after, it was the Deathclaw, not quite ten meters behind him.

Maybe it wanted the Radscorpion's meat? Fine.

He moved to the exit of the quarry, and heard its fangs chomping the gun behind him.

He turned, yep, there it was, still staring at him while chowing down in its meal of metal.

"Don't follow me." he ordered, moving along shortly afterwards.

But it did. He tried ignoring it, blocking out the mental image of it, and the sounds of his favourite weapon being torn down to its inner skeleton.

Ryder stopped at the quarry entrance, quickly turned his head back, it was right behind him, _really_ close, too close for a sane person to want. Its chomps had moved on from the butt to the handle now.

"Go, go back to your…"

Now he felt like an asshole, its parents? They were dead, where would this thing go? No other's of its kind where around, a little baby, all alone.

Alone, with nothing but a human to accompany it. That and its toy to chew.

Ryder was feeling bad… for a Deathclaw? Maybe the Mojave really was affecting him, that, or the _tats_ after effects.

Ryder sighed, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, sighed _again_ , and placed one hand over his helmed mouth, deep in thought.

The Deathclaw stared – and chewed – with interest.

"You want to come with?"

It said nothing, obviously.

"You gotta behave, alright?"

Still, it showed no response.

"Come on then, you're probably hungry too."

He walked, and it followed.

At least he had companionship; Deathclaw companionship, that was.

He wasn't the brightest man in the wastes.


	2. Chapter 2: Goodsprings

**Goodsprings**

 **1**

South of Quarry Junction, Long 15 was sidewinded against three buildings, all of them made of scavenged steel. Two of them were like huts, one of them was like a motel. In and around these steel huts were men, young and old. All of them wore bright yellow hard hats, and tacky work overalls that went down their arms and legs fully. This excuse for a landmark was known as Sloan, but with no signage or significance, it was just simply an old NCR outpost.

Up a small incline of the road, man and Deathclaw (still chewing the gun) were waved over by an elderly man, white thick beard, and eyes filled with surprise, a pair of black goggles hung loosely around his neck, hard hat firmly sitting atop his head, as the man wanted no one to see his balding dome.

"Can't believe anyone actually made it through from the north, what with all the Deathclaw's in the quarry." said the old guy, hands on hips.

Ryder approached, a small barricade between him and the old man separated them. Ryder gave a small smile.

"Well you won't have to-"

"Behind you!" he called, revealing a small pistol from his belt, pointed right at him. Ryder raises his hands in response.

"Woah, woah! What's- oh."

The Little One was clutching his right leg tightly, but it kept its claws facing away, so he wasn't in pain. Its other hand was _still_ pressing the gun into its mouth. Seemed chewing was a priority for this one.

Three other workers had noticed, and drew similar black pistols, all aimed at his leg.

"Relax, take it easy, its fine, its friendly." Ryder said, calm as could be.

"Never heard of a tamer of Deathclaw's, and it don't look friendly to me." old man countered.

The Little One growled, Ryder whispered for it to 'Calm down' and surprisingly, it did, it shrunk behind his leg as much as it could.

"Trust me, it came from the quarry, its cleared out, this one's just… following me. Its harmless! Look."

Slowly, Ryder places a hand on the Deathclaw's head, it leant into his touch, and he was soon petting its rough head thoroughly.

He suppressed the urge to swear in shock.

"Fine, but its best you move on soon kid." The old man turns to the others. "Let the men know about this, give em' some wide berth."

The men acknowledged, and walked off, but their hands still laid on the butt's of their guns, all the more on edge.

Ryder took a step forward, but was pulled back by the Deathclaw's grasp.

Unknown to him, the Deathclaw understood no words the humans spoke, not even Ryder's. So it was still sceptical to all these humans around it. But it recognised the tone of Ryder, and his voice calmed it.

"Relax... Little One?"

Ryder hadn't thought of a name, he should work on that, maybe that would make things easier to introduce his new pet/friend to the wastes.

He pet it some more, and its arm slowly released from him, and he moved forward to shake the old man's hand, shadowed by the Deathclaw.

"Chomps Lewis." he said.

"No, no it hasn't chomped anyone-"

"That's my name."

"Oh, I'm Ryder."

"What brings you out here kid? And how did you get that thing to follow you?"

He recalled how he cleared out the quarry for 'a client', but failed to mention the sack of eggs he carried out. He finished with how the baby Deathclaw followed him ever since he came back after the Radscorpion chase.

As Ryder spoke, the Deathclaw in turn began wondering around him, picking up fallen bits of litter and rocks whilst chewing the _.45_. But it made a small 'out-of-bounds' area around Ryder, and never strayed too far away.

After a minute, a Mole Rat wondered towards the Deathclaw. Its pink skin held a thousand hairs, and they all stood up on edge. It sniffed and approached the Deathclaw with care, limping as it did so.

The Little One did the same, poking its hide with the blunt sides of its claws. Eventually it _handed_ the _.45_ to the Mole Rat, and its two large fangs that hung out of the rat's mouth began destroying the trigger.

The Deathclaw growled as it bit off a chunk of the wooden grip of the barrel and spat it out. The Mole Rat snuffed in response, and they continued into thier meal.

Ryder and Chomps stared in awe, how quick they had made friends truly was something else.

"How did it get a gun like that?"

"Well, I dropped it in some water and, well, it's not working. But it seems to like it."

"Couldn't you have just let it dry out? Things a powerful tool."

"Uh, no." he shook his head. "No I waited a while, it's gone for good."

"Alright then. Snuffles seems to like it too."

The two beasts were like a pair sharing a romantic dinner, a dinner of bolts and metal, all of it now unrecognisable compared to what it looked like when he found it.

'Snuffles' _snuffed_ in response to its name, but never stopped clamping down its jaws.

"You guys have a pet, why so hostile to mine?"

"Mole Rats don't chew your face off as easily as a Deathclaw's can."

Chomps sounded as if he was explaining to an idiot, which he was.

Ryder couldn't help but agree. He bid Chomps farewell, and walked up to the pair of mutants. He cringed at the state of the _.45_ , no getting it back now.

"Come on, were going."

At the sound of his voice, the Deathclaw leapt up, and was at his side at once. Snuffles went at his gun like there was no tomorrow.

"You're not gonna take it with you?"

The Little One said nothing, only stared at his mouth.

"Fine. C'mon."

They passed the rest of the workers, who starred in awe at the Deathclaw, its face gave the illusion that it was _smiling_. Smiling that it had made a new friend in such little time. Ryder wondered if it really did speak to snuffles, but dismissed it long after they were out of sight of the outpost.

The road emerged from two high hills on each side. To the left of the road, the train's rails ran alongside where they walked, past it was a rocky plain, far in the distance was a large prison, four watchtower's on each side.

To the right was nothing but great hills dotted with cacti and rock. The largest of the hills held an old symbol of religion, two planks of wood crossed each other, not quite in the centre. Ryder knew this as a symbol his mother followed – a symbol of the Man Jesus – she still did.

Ryder would not be called a man of faith, nor an atheist like his father, he didn't know what to believe, he was young and stupid, and with the two forces of his parents, he knew not who was right in the end.

He only passed this way once, that was when he had his family as company, eyes facing north. Far to the south was the town of Primm, and he gave not a single glance at it, partly because his caravan was in a great hurry to Vegas.

Great posts of wood stretched out of the ground like fingers, each one connected with a handful of wires that hadn't been cut by the elements. These things were once said to carry 'electricity' through them, some still did, they powered lights and such in the big towns, he wondered if these very posts powered those bright lights in Vegas, and if one snapped, it would all turn off.

But that was stupid, these small wires couldn't power all _that_ … could it? If not, then where did it all come from? Such things he knew not of.

After a good few minutes of walking in silence, a large corpse of a Brahmin lay dead in the centre of the road ahead of them. He squatted next to it. Its dead stench filled his nostrils, and a thousand flies swarmed the gaping face's of the animal.

Two holes melted the skin around its neck, and its back two legs were nowhere to be seen. The road around it was scorched black, as if something had exploded here.

The Little One circled the dead Brahmin with equal interest, it snapped its jaws hungrily, giving off a low moan afterwards.

"You hungry?"

Its silence was its answer.

On the Brahmins back was a few leather bags, he unbuckled the under shackles, lifting it off to the ground and exposing its rather red hide to the Deathclaw. He waved at it, and the Deathclaw dug in greedily.

He searched its bags, empty, of course.

Bits of flesh went flying off around the Deathclaw's mouth as it ate the meat like it did to his gun. Small tags of red meat stuck to Ryder's face as he searched the other bags. But after the fourth piece landed in his hair, he couldn't go on ignoring it.

"Could you just-" Another slab hit him. "Hey!" One more. "You-"

He placed the bags down and walked to the Deathclaw's side. It watched him, bits of Brahmin hanging out and between its teeth.

"One at a time, c'mon." He rips off a small chunk from the hide – it felt squishy in his grip – it was no bigger than his palm, and he moves it to the beasts mouth.

It takes it all in one bite, scraping his gloves with its teeth over so slightly. He checks it, no skin tear, thankfully.

"Don't want you eating like _that_ in front of everyone, know what I mean? Sloooow down."

It stared, seemed to get the message, and began eating the rest of the hide a bit slower, less chunks of flesh flew around, and it didn't make slapping sounds with its tongue or lips anymore.

This was one wild wasteland, he was telling off a Deathclaw about eating, though he couldn't blame it for being so hungry, it probably hadn't eaten in its short life yet.

At the thought of eating, his stomach howled in protest.

Ryder waited a few minutes for the Little One to finish, he scanned around, at first he only heard the wind passing by, but he heard a few voices up ahead, past the tracks. Four men, wearing guard uniforms and holding dynamite, were walking down the way he came, feet on the tracks.

Ryder nodded, gave off a wave at them. The looks on their faces were priceless, and they went to the east rather than the south, feet now running.

The Little One had growled at them, then resumed eating when they went on their way.

Maybe a companion like this had some rather useful perks.

To finish, the Little One wiped its face, and it ever so slightly seemed to grin up at him. Blood trickled down its chin, spotting the black road with red spots, giving it the savage look like its pack had.

He bundled up his cloak in his hand, and wiped it on its face, scrubbing it clean. The Deathclaw leant into his cloak and hand like a dog would to its master.

It made the cleaning process difficult.

"Cut it out." he said, pressing the cloth past its forehead to its teeth, but the Little One wouldn't have it, his palm would always end up rubbing its forehead like he had done before. It rubbed back against his hand, that's all it did.

"Come on just- I need to- you…"

For the next five minutes this went on (It had resorted to try and pull the cloak away, resulting in a tug-of-war scenario) but he was relieved to have finally made it look more presentable, it was frustrating, but he didn't notice his face was in a constant smile the more it tried to make him pet it.

 **2**

They had passed a sign that read out 'GOODSPRINGS' and followed it. No wildlife was around, and Ryder didn't feel like eating rotting Brahmin after a Deathclaw chewed off most of its hide.

And he had a few caps to spare, Lucy was generous in _that_ department.

It was a constant climb up a rather steep hill. The road was rough, and made the trip unnecessarily harder and longer, each step was like a small leap or lunge. He had to plant his hands on his knees with each step of the way.

So much so, that at first the Deathclaw lagged behind, then eventually stopped altogether. Its little legs couldn't carry it for so far, regardless if it was a Deathclaw or not.

He turns, the poor thing was huffing, face aimed to the ground. He walked and hunkered down in front of it, rubbing its head.

"Were almost there, c'mon." he encouraged.

The third time he had said that so far. And the Little One didn't look like it could go no further.

He thought, then his face lit up, a big smile painted on him.

He turns his back on it, and pats his shoulder.

"Here."

It looks questioningly at him, tilting its head. He smiled, and repeated himself.

Figuring it out, it places one hand on each of his shoulders, and hoists itself up. Clawed feet pressing against his back and hip.

He stands up, and the beast on him makes a small shriek and growl combined, and clutches him tighter.

"Easy, its-OW!"

His back felt like two giant needles had pinned themselves in him.

At his outburst, the Deathclaw relaxed slightly, pinning more weight on his shoulder pads, its face looking at the distant ground, eyes wide. Ryder pats each of its hands, calming it down a bit from the sudden escalation of height.

With a lot more weight on him ('Christ, how heavy is it?' he thought) he carries – literally – onwards up the road.

"How're you going?" he asked a few minutes later.

It softly growled, maybe a 'yes'? If he had ever heard a cat purr, well, it would have been similar to that.

They passed underneath a great dead tree. No leaves, only skinny branches in the barest forms, spread out like crude blades. On the closest branch was perched a midnight coloured bird. It called out to them, its cursing voice irritated his ears.

 _Faawk-Faawk-Faaaawk_

It was swearing at him, it sounded like.

He passed underneath it. Big mistake. The beast on his back reached one curious hand after another onto the nearest branch, and latched on.

He walked two steps, the Little One sliding off of him before he even realised. He spun around and grabbed its legs quickly with both hands.

"Don't! Hey!"

But the Deathclaw _really_ wanted the bird, and he soon let its legs go, and was forced to watch it climb. The bird flapped its wings menacingly, but all it did was change its call to scare off the beast.

 _Fuuuck!-Fuuuck!_

"I'd be saying the same thing if I were you, man."

The other Deathclaw's were slow to climb, he knew this in person, but perhaps the smaller ones were much more nimble, the Little One jumped and jumped, up and up each tree limb like it was designed to be climbed.

So quick, the bird had little time to react.

It swiped its right arm wildly, just scraping the birds side, drawing a line of blood that landed beside Ryder, who watched on with crossed arms, head tilted upwards.

The Little One snapped its jaws dangerously close to its prey, but it mattered little, the bird was already flying off south, flapping up and down, spewing out squirts of blood as it made distance. Soon it was but a black speck in the blue sky.

He shook his head, and was about to look back at the tree when the beast landed on his shoulder, almost making him topple over under the sudden weight.

He stared at it with scolding eyes, it stared right back, mouth wide.

"That… just, well, let's keep going."

They did. And the birds cusses grew ever distant, and soon it was gone.

 _Fuuuck!-Fuuuck!_

 **3**

The town of Goodsprings was quiet, had he not seen people wandering the one street and the dirt tracks, he would have thought it abandoned from a distance. The town was built into the edges of large mountains. Low buildings scattered around on the left of town, almost all there yards were filled with crops and Brahmin. A large water tank, brown with rust, and a tall water pump, its rotor spun slowly, almost still, dominated the centre of town on one side of the one and only road.

Two large buildings bustled with some activity on the other side of the curved road into town. One read 'Goodsprings General Store' in old style letters above its rusty roof, the other read 'PROSPECTOR SALOON' the word 'Saloon' had its last three letters designed with colourful flashing lights, like those used in Vegas itself, 'neon' or something.

Ryder stood before the saloon, its batwing doors flapped lazily on its porch, next to them was an old man wearing a wide straw hat, a stick of wheat hung out of his mouth as he chewed it.

"Howdy, what's that on your back there?" he said with arched brows when Ryder approached, feet planted on the two steps up the porch. The old timer's skin was so brown from the burning sun, that the hat probably didn't even work.

Like a Mole Rat out of its cove, the Deathclaw pokes its head above Ryder's, giving a weird call of greeting in the form of a short growllish yelp. "Mee!"

"Jumpin' jacks!" He almost toppled in his rocking chair. "What's a Deathclaw doin' on your back, son?"

He shrugs. "It followed me."

"But why's it on your back?"

Another shrug. "It got tired, huh, not enough to jump a tree and…"

"What tree? And tired? Are you taking some-"

"Relax Easy Pete, let him in."

The new voice was that of a woman's, she had her neat black haired head leaning out of the door frame, a smile on her face, and a friendlier tone then 'Easy Pete's'.

"You heard the lady, go on, but keep that thing on a short leash, you understand son?"

"Alright, old timer." Ryder quickly darted in before Pete could retaliate.

Through the batwing doors was the saloon, split in half by a thick wall, the right half was a dining area, the other half the bar, where the lady was walking. They followed her, well, _he_ did.

A few booths of rotten cushioned chairs lined the wall and corner, all had barren wooden tables, with only one lamp to fill the space. They were all full, men and women sipping on drinks or stuffing down meats from all sorts of animals. The bar held about six stools, all were being used as well.

He stood next to the bar, looking back and forth between the used seats.

"Well, were are we gonna sit?" Ryder asked to the beast on his shoulder.

All the people on the stools got up and rushed out back into the safety of the outside. The Little One tilted its head in confusion in their direction, still perched on his shoulder like that bird had been on the tree.

Ryder sat down on a stool, it creaked under his weight, he thought it might collapse, but it passed.

"Trudy." the woman said behind the bar. "New in town and your already causing a stir with Pete. Welcome to Goodsprings, and the Prospector Saloon."

"Good to meet you, I didn't mean to be causin' trouble."

"Don't worry about it. Some folks, especially the old'ns, see anything not human as a threat, but my town welcomes all, humans or not."

The Deathclaw took the seat next to Ryder, and looked cutely up to Trudy with some big teddy bear eyes… Cutely?

"Besides, Its kinda cute." she added.

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

"May I?"

"What?-"

He got no other word in, the Deathclaw had literally _jumped_ up and into Trudy's outstretched arms, she cradled it, like you would a baby.

The mid-aged woman was smiling, rocking the beast back in forth in her arms, her whole body in a swinging motion. She wore grey clothes that would (ironically) suit an old mother.

"You seem very… fond, of it, quite weirdly so." Ryder said.

"Weird? You're the one with it on your back."

Now the Deathclaw was really smiling, it's eyes were full of brightness now, it reminded him how an _actual_ baby would react to this type of care and attention. It nuzzled into her arms, its talons attempting to hug Trudy back.

He pondered on this for a second. "Yeah, your right."

"So? What's his name? Or hers? Which one is it?"

"I dunno. Haven't you know, checked, or anything. Can I get something to eat? Please? Steak or something."

"Oh, where are my manners? Sure, let me give you your friend back and I'll get on it."

She hands it back over the counter top, and Ryder was forced to take it in the same style Trudy was holding it. The Little One was all the more happier, it hugged itself tighter against his chest, still caring not to scratch at him with its young and deadly claws, despite him wearing armour.

Trudy smacked down a plate – cutlery as well – on the counter in front of him, a big red steak was there, ready for his growling stomach.

"Fifty, none of that NCR money either."

Like reaching for a concealed sidearm, he places a hand into the left side of his armour behind the cloak. His right side was where his rifle was, the _.45_ had now been replaced with the shotgun Lucy gave him.

His gear had nothing if not a whole bunch of small pockets everywhere. He removes a small bag, filled with caps of bottles, and places it down on the bar.

Like the curious child it was, the Deathclaw rummaged around in his cloak the same time he did, and pulled out a small thin box. It started chewing on it.

"Oi! You..." he grabs it out of its mouth – with a bit of resistance – but managed.

The box had the word 'MENTATS' on the flappable lid on the top.

Ryder removed his helmet which he failed to notice until now, and clipped it on the belt on his hip. From the lack of hands, the Deathclaw sat on his lap without support, looking up at his face for the first time.

"You got any _tats_?" he asked her.

"Sure, got one left back here somewhere." Trudy said, beginning to rummage below the bar.

When she appeared again, a box of Mentats in her hand, she couldn't help but stiffer a laugh.

The Deathclaw was nuzzling its face against Ryder's jet black hair, he had a look of plain neutrality on his face, each nuzzle made his head move, but he didn't seem to react otherwise.

He was trying to ignore it. _Trying_ was the key.

"Keep the change."

"Pffft… OK…" she said with a grin.

Ryder dug in. Gratefully accepting the thick juicy steak into his body. The Little One continued to rub his silky soft hair without end. He'd keep saying 'Get out of it.' every few moments, but those words fell on deaf ears, if the thing _has_ ears.

They talked a while, about how he found it, and how long it had been since. Trudy told him she was the mayor, and that she was glad a new face was here, and brought interesting company with it.

"When was the last time someone else passed through?"

"Not in a while, most just stay clear, heading off to Vegas or the towns south of here. We enjoy the quiet, as you might've seen from the others."

True, no one else (except the old coot out front, with the wheat out of mouth like a cigar) had spoken to him yet.

"Where do you come from, Ryder?"

"Grew up with Vees Knees, walking the caravan my whole life, 'till now that is."

"I heard a thing or two about the VK's, where are the others?"

"We all just… moved on. Not many of us left anymore."

"You have my sympathies, its hard living on the roads, trust me I know. That's why I founded this town, travelling your whole life is too hard on anyone, even someone as young as you."

"Your right but… Never mind. Thanks for the-"

The saloons doors were kicked open with a booted foot. Three figures, wearing that same armour of the ones back where he found the dead Brahmin, stood outside, the sun's rays directly behind them, hiding their faces, their outlines a haze.

"Excuse me for a moment." Trudy said, almost lazily, and walked on over to the batwings. Ryder saw the leader, a dark skinned man with short hair, had his arms folded, and his brows arced in fierce anger.

As Trudy and the man conversed, Ryder placed a hand over the Mentat box.

He had kept these drugs hidden from his parents and family from the days on the road. No one but him knew of his addiction, though 'addiction' wasn't the right word he would use. These chalky red pills helped him more than anyone else had, it was the only reason he even got through that quarry in the first place, or was able to read, or know more about the world. His parents were too lazy, or too busy fighting, to teach him, but these things did, and he was glad for their existence.

Each pill made him better in every way, who were his parents to judge anyway? And it wasn't like what they would say: _"Oh, drugs are bad, you'll be spewing it all out of your ass within the next day of injecting that shit into yourself! Don't even think about it!"_

Sure, Jet and Psycho and all those other ones were a bit off, but Mentats? No, these were good.

He slips one red pill out of its socket in the box, examining it in the lights of the saloon. All those little bits and bobs, and it all made him better, better than anything _ever_.

The Little One matched his gaze, staring at the pill as well, they both looked (their heads were side by side) entranced by its little red glitter.

Ryder wondered…

Wondered for a while, not listening to the conversation between Trudy and the Powder Ganger.

His eyes drifted to the Deathclaw's, who mimicked him.

Eyes back on the pill.

Then the beast.

Then the pill.

Pill… Deathclaw… of course!

"Go on."

It took the pill in one hand, smacked its lips, and downed it in one go, no water needed.

Trudy clapped them both on the back as she passed them once more. He asked for some water, and she handed him a bottle of the good stuff, 'Good - Springs - Water' she called it.

The Little One opened its mouth, and he poured a bit in, and downed a good bit himself afterwards.

"So, what was that about?"

"Well, our little town got itself into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. This trader, Ringo, comes into town awhile back, bad men after him, needs a place to hide. So I gave him a place to lie low, thinking he's in shock. Didn't expect anyone to come after him."

"No offense, but that was pretty, well, stupid."

"None taken." But Ryder knew in that tone, she seemed a little steamed at that, so he said nothing like that again.

"Who was that guy?"

"Joe Cobb, threatening the town, says he'll attack if we don't give Ringo up, told him to get lost, he usually sits down the road a bit, I figured you would've seen him on your way in."

"Hm, no I didn't. Thanks for the brunch, you got a place to fix some gear?"

"The general store next door, yeah. Do come back to say goodbye friend, I wish you both well. But here, let me refill that bottle."

Before Ryder stood up, the Deathclaw jumped to Trudy one last time, she cradled it… again. But not for as long, as it soon found itself on Ryder's shoulder again and they were out the door, Ryder waving Trudy goodbye as he pushed the batwings open.

He could just see Joe Cobb and his buddies walking off the road a bit.

A great idea went through his head. One so great he thought he was on Mentats, but he wasn't. He pulled out the box again and grabbed another two pills, holding them up to the light as before.

He 'knocks em' back' quickly, a bit of water to make sure he got them in. And the effects were almost instant.

The sugary pill melted the walls of his mouth, his tongue went sour then sweet. His mouth was but a coat of tasty syrup that had an endless flavour to it. His pupils dilated, and only a sliver of grey remained in his eyes, a great smile reached up his cheeks. He felt stronger, he felt tougher, he felt smarter. He felt like one of those superheroes in those pre-war comics, able to do any and all things, big or small, he could do them.

His back straightened, and he held his head high.

If the Deathclaw had eyebrows, one would be raised above the other as it stared at him with confusion written all over its face.

Ryder puffs out his chest, taking in one big breath of fresh, radiated air.

Behind him and unseen, Easy Pete shook his head.

"Oh lordy-lordy, your one of _those_ people, are you?" he asked, rocking back and forth on his chair.

"Uh-huh!" Ryder replied, a bit too loudly.

The _buzz_ had kicked in, and when the _bu_ zz filled his head with a small tingling sensation, he knew he could do _anything_.

With a skip in his step, Ryder carried onwards to Joe and his gang of near do wells.

"Oh Joe Coooooobb!" Ryder called out, sing-song fashion.


	3. Chapter 3: The Buzz

**The Buzz**

 **1**

" _Mother, I'm thirsty."_

" _It's alright little one, your father is just making sure it's safe."_

" _What are those sounds?"_

" _Human machines, stay with me, I won't let you be harmed."_

Those sounds were like a hundred claps of thunder within a few moments. On the mothers back, the little one clutched her very tightly, frightened, and cold, even in her home.

She hugged her mother with much conviction, shuddering when those thunders sounded off again and again. Her father appeared at the mouth, then crouched down to the mother, nuzzling her with his face, to which she returned.

" _It is but one Demon, it's attacking the others with something I've never seen before, its killed two of us-"_

" _Watch your tongue! The little one hears all."_

The father began rubbing her affectionately, passing over the mothers back to reach. She returned it gratefully as well.

" _What's going on?"_ she asked.

" _No need to worry yourself, we shall drive it away, I'll be back within a moment."_

But he wouldn't return, and deep down, the father knew this, somehow.

The father went out into the open plain of the human machine gathering area he had overtaken some time ago. The ones he took this place from wore thick bright hats and threw sticks of fire at them, but this one, this dark-clad human had a tool that spit death itself at them from afar.

With a low growl, he signals the others of his pack, and soon the mouth of his hatchlings home was protected by many of his finest.

He cast his eyes up to one of the human machines, a big red contraption, and that's when he saw it.

The human, the _Demon_ , coated in scales as dark as night, and its red eyes seemed to look right into his soul, he shuddered slightly under its gaze, but this went unnoticed by the others.

He exchanged a second of staring at the Demon, before his pack charged up the hill after it.

It was a slaughter, his kin fell one by one, two of them screaming about the loss of sight, and the others dying silently. His thick hide had grown tougher over time, and he brushed off the few metal projections that stuck into him.

The human clambered up the machine, and he followed after, stomping and growling in defiance and anger.

Despite being well toned hunters, they stood little chance against ranged attacks, he leapt over one of the last of his pack, ordering him to stay back.

" _This one is mine."_ he finished as he sawed over its head. The father scaled the metal arm of the red machine, gaining ground quickly on the ever so slightly better climber that was the Demon.

It mattered little, it had nowhere to go at this point.

But when he finally had the human pinned, arm raised high for the killing blow, he stopped at the feeling of sudden loos of balance. Casting his fiery eyes backward, he saw the machine begin to fall under the fathers massive weight.

And when he looked back, the human had jumped, but he was perusing, quite quickly.

He was in fact, still on the machine's arm, and his legs were stuck in between the metal beams. Just before the ground met him to collapse his legs and arms, he saw the Black-Demon land safely in a pool of water, disappearing from view.

The father passed out for a few moments, he never truly grasped the idea of his crumpled and destroyed body before the end, he was too taken back by his attempts to stare down the Demon.

Its red eyes glazed over the home when it brushed itself from the water, it looked right at the home of his mate, and his _Little One_ , she was only one of the new clutch to have hatched yet.

" _Don't you dare."_ he growled.

He noticed it lacked its tool of death, and a feeling of dread swept over him like the wind. If it was not to kill his offspring, then…

" _No…"_

The Little One was on the verge of collapse, its mother had it pinned between the rock wall and her mother's back, she was not in pain, but the fright was doing the same job.

She felt a piece of her mind slip away, the feeling of a loss of kin was a part of her mind. Her whole family was connected like that, they tumbled away from her mind like rocks off a cliff, and she knew her father was in pain.

" _Mother, he's-"_

" _Be silent, I won't let it-"_

She spoke no more, neither of them did.

Unseen to the Little One, the Demon had stood in the mouth of the home, its red eyes glinted as its undying gaze looked over the home. It locked eyes with the mother, who had her arms wide, concealing her daughter behind her.

What struck the mother by surprise was that it didn't attack straight away, did it know about her daughter? Had it come for her? If so, what was it waiting for?

Had it come to take her away?

" _Please, don't-"_

She only comprehended the blade for a second, before all went dark, and she crumpled on top of her only child.

The Little One dared not move, not with the Demon so close (she did not call it Demon, she knew not what it was). She could hear it's hands pass over her unborn kin. Its movement stopped when it crouched before her mother's body.

She dared not breath at such close presence.

She waited.

It began doing something to her mother. Then she heard a pluck, and the body fidgeted on her, but lay as still as before shortly after.

The intruder was gone, and with much fight, the little one clawed her way out from underneath her mother. One eye was but a mesh, the other was lifeless, no fire or anything.

" _Mother?"_

Nothing.

" _Please, wake up."_

Her sleeping mother, slept - and not known to the Little One just yet - would never wake.

She caressed the much too cold head of her mother with both hands, rubbing her affectionately like her father did. She reluctantly let go at the thought of him, and slowly exited her home, into the day's dying light.

Whoever was here was long gone, gone with a clutch of her unborn brothers and sisters.

She felt no presence of her kin anymore, they were either gone, or… her father's mind touched hers, and she rushed over to him, as fast as her little legs could take her.

She felt like crying at the sight of his destroyed form. She rushed over to him, whining her voice to him.

" _Father, your- oh no…"_

Despite his crippled limbs, he managed to rub her small horns with a hand, slowly, delicately, finishing with one pointed claw raising her chin so she met his eyes.

Her eyes were like that of a storm, his were more of a fog.

" _Don't cry, it will all be better. Come here."_

She embraced him, her head resting below his chin, his one arm draped over her, her father was nothing but protective, even to the end.

" _Mother's not waking, will you not wake either?"_

" _Little One, we are all alive, we never truly rest, so long as you carry us with you."_

" _With me?"_ she sobbed. _"Where will I go? You told me there's nothing beyond our home."_

" _Nothing you're not ready for."_

" _I can't… I can't…"_

" _Never tell yourself that, never again, you hear me? Say you do."_

What was she to say? She could barely speak to him in her state, let alone open her eyes and see the mutilation of his body. She sobbed some more, each one making her shuffle in her father's warm embrace, an embrace that soon went ever so slightly limp.

" _But, I know not how to hunt or… father?"_

She opened her eyes, and saw his closed ones.

She begged, begged him to stop sleeping, stop dreaming and come back. But he didn't.

And she didn't even answer him before the end.

There she lay for the rest of the days light, darkness soon consumed her and her father, making them but a black speck in the dark night. She stared up at the sky above, watching the countless specks of little white dots flicker and dazzle.

She reminisced on the stories of these white specks, how some of them made odd shapes her mother pointed out to her. The Tooth, The Claw, and all the others.

She wept herself to sleep, and collapsed next to the corpse once known as her father.

She woke in the morning, thinking it was all a dream, believing that she would waltz with her mother, running around and playing tricks on her much too older favourite brother. But the face of her father reminded her of yesterday's events.

Despite a short life, she came to care greatly for them, who wouldn't?

Her thirst dried her throat out, and she dragged her feet to the nearby pond, sipping away for longer than she needed to, as she didn't want to see that dead face again.

So she looked on at the water, watching the ripples slowly steady from where she drank. She curiously watched her reflection stare back at her. Her mother's hide, her father eyes, that's what the pack described her as.

But those burning eyes were extinguished, and her thick hide was young and tender, if she ever grew that large, well, she wondered who she would take after in the end.

She wasn't aggressive, not much fire in her for that, not as much as her father either, but she thought about who had done this to her.

She wouldn't swear to kill the one that did this.

She might find out why it did it.

 _Then_ kill it.

If only she had laid eyes on the killer, then she would know who had done all this.

She heard something coming from behind her, she walked on to investigate (daring not to look at her father again) and saw a rather peculiar sight. She perched herself on the arm of the red beast, and watched a figure running up the hill she used to play on.

Behind it was a weird creature, but her eyes were focused on the human in front. It was, well, screeching loudly, and as she hid behind the machine, its yelling came into the form of words.

"… _ucker! Go away!"_ it cried, desperately.

Mother described humans, two legs and arms, but they knew not of how they spoke, but she was _very_ curious to find out.

She ducked out of sight, and watched the human climb aboard the machine, tossing a weird long _thing_ on top first. A _thing_ that peaked her interest further.

The creature was still, two claws raised up at the human, who spoke again, but she knew not what it meant.

With it currently occupied, she lunged. And after a few short moments (it was longer than that, she needed practice in hunting) she killed it, and laid eyes on the human's odd, mechanical red ones.

So, what was this thing? A human? Or maybe…

It was pointing the long _thing_ at her, but she was oblivious to its danger, she merely wondered what it was, and if it was food, or something.

She tilted her head, and so did it. Even moved its hand back and forth, making her copy it. She stares down her hand, doing the alien gesture to herself.

Before she looked up, the human thing was gone.

She followed it down the machine.

She sat at the pond's edge (She grieved her father a moment, couldn't help it) when the human – oddly – dove into the pool. She picked up the _thing_ in her hands, and began tasting it.

Didn't she get a fright when the human yelled at her when it emerged.

It held in its hands another _thing_ , this one had bits of tree on it, and it tossed it to her, she chucked the _thing_ back in exchange.

As her teeth explored the tastes of metal and wood, the human got up and started its trek back to the outside, bypassing the creature she killed.

She never truly knew the exact reason for following it, but she was alone, hungry, and curious, this human could - and would - counter these challenges of hers.

Curious because of how humans spoke, her kind used the drum of throats, while they formed more complex sounds, interesting sounds.

So when she first laid eyes on his _actual_ mouth, she would take every chance to study it, imbed the way his lips and tongue move in her memory.

 **2**

"So? What's she saying?"

"Fuck her, she aint telling shit, they'll pay, they'll all pay along with Ringo for hiding him."

"Boss, I don't mean to sound reli-relut, no, what's the word…"

"Reluctant?"

"Yeah that, but didn't you see that guy in there? With that little mutant lizard as a pet? Thing'll chew us all up."

"That's why we got guns stupid, and we'll just kill em' soon as he and it pass on out of here."

Joe was leaning back against one of the shitty abandoned houses on the edge of Goodsprings, he had two of his lackeys with him, Chappie and Red. Red was the reluctant sunuvabitch that never took off that stupid red cap on his head.

Joe and Red (not his real name) wore the common guard armour, vest and all that the prison guards back in NCRCF _used_ to wear, but Chappie, all he had was a pair of shorts that went to his knees, boots with spurs, one long bandolier over his right shoulder to his left hip, and a black cowboy hat. Chap's was looking back towards the saloon, hands on his forehead.

"So what're we waitin' for? Lets burn this shithole down!" Red said crazily.

"What are you, stupid, _and_ hot-headed? We wait, Eddie'll send backup soon."

"How?"

" _You'll_ say it to him yourself, get like four others, now go, quickly."

Red gave him the look a little child who hated doing chores would do, but he hoofed it back south without a word.

"You know he'll screw up somewhere." commented Chappie.

"Yeah, I'll say."

" _Oh Joe Coooooobb!"_

The man with the Deathclaw on his shoulder was jogging right at him and Chap's. Had his helmet not been off (Or a crazy yet truthful smile on his face), he probably would've popped his skull with a bullet, the lizard was small, but Red was right, it could rip them up.

He didn't show his fear outward, instead forcing his voice into that tough leadership tone he always did around his men.

"What do you want?" he said curtly.

The black cloaked kid put one elbow on the wreck of a nearby car, looking as if he was in a bar picking up a fresh whore in Vegas.

"So!" the kid said, clicking his left fingers, then pointed at Joe. "What's been going on?"

"I said what the fuck do you want!?"

"Well, I want to know about that guy you want. Ringo, isn't it?"

"Yeah, some trader, shot up our guys rather than pay the toll for crossing our territory. You seen him around?"

"Oh, why do you ask?"

"Fucker deserves to die. Can't get close enough, he'd see me coming. Maybe you-"

"One thing before I – ahem - _deal_ with him though. I want a discount at the store."

What was this Deathclaw whisperer thinking? Implying that he wanted to take over this town of nothing? Ringo was his only concern, and he couldn't take on ten of them.

"We're not taking over, and what the hell for anyway? Not much worth stealing."

"Run the town Cobb, they'll work and give you all there shit, food, water… _moneyyy_."

That last word rang through Joe's head like a bell. Not bad… _Mayor Cobb_ he thought, the name practically sang itself.

"Mayor Cobb." He said, letting his tongue taste the words. "Yeah, give me some pull on the guys at the prison too…"

Mentally, Ryder noted this down, as so did the Deathclaw.

"We have to deal with Ringo first-"

"Leave it to me and my little friend here. We'll be back before you know it!"

Now running when he first saw him, the kid sprinted back into town, Deathclaw glaring at them as it rode along with him.

The whole while, Chappie was dumbfounded, his eyes as wide as plates.

"Joe, did you just-"

"Recruit a Deathclaw? Yep. Wait till' Eddie hears this one."

 **3**

Ryder explored the upper town, but not for long. A gas station, most of its windows bordered up to hell, sat on its lonesome. He and the Deathclaw – which had resulted in patting him the way he did back in Sloan – stood in front of the station's one and only door.

He knocks.

No response.

"Hmm." Ryder squats down, peering into the keyhole with one wide eye looking through. Then with a motion of his hand, he protrudes a small bobby pin, ready to get to work.

He flicked his eyes to the beast on his shoulder. "You'll have to get of me while I do this, buddy."

Its eyes locked on him, head tilted downwards slightly. He points at the ground, and it obeys, sliding off of him slowly.

"Silly me, where's my knife?"

He searched his person to no avail, eventually taking another bobby pin out of his cloak, saying this will 'make do' for now.

As he went to town on the lock, the Deathclaw watched one of the un-boarded windows with intellect, narrowing her eyes a few seconds later.

On the third broken pin, Ryder spoke.

"Heh, almost got it this time, just a liiiitle more and-"

A loud crash of glass pounded his right eardrum. He quickly glanced to it, and saw a smashed window, with no Deathclaw in sight.

"Uh, buddy? Little guy? Or girl? Hello?"

He leans his head into the window, and sure enough, on the ground in the station – a great big smile on its face – was the one he spoke of.

"Woah, those _tats_ work quick, don't they?"

If it could speak, it would've hastily agreed.

"Yeah?" he said, nodding vigorously.

The Deathclaw looked back, still smiling.

He points to the glass, still nodding. "Yeah?"

He got what he wished for, the Deathclaw finally copied him, and began nodding its head at him.

Despite the thunderous crash of broken glass, Ryder still whispered his next instructions.

"Open the door… yeah… no, other way… that's it, good work!"

He closed it behind him, peering down at the hunched beast.

"OK, we have to be very, _very_ , quiet. Tip toe, like this."

He did so, taking seconds to stop between each step, arms raised like a T-Rex. The Little One copied him perfectly, shadowing him, perhaps more quieter then he was, only her taloned feet made small clicks, almost inaudible.

"That's close enough. Who are you? And is that a Deathclaw behind you?"

The jig was up, Ringo, wearing an outfit only a caravaner would, aimed a _9mm_ right at them, switching targets every second. He was pale, maybe due to his Deathclaw's presence, a look of worry was easy to see, both in voice and face.

"We're just, checking things out." he lied.

"In broad daylight?"

"Hey! Its late, kinda."

"Sorry about the gun, but, your little friend there, is it your pet? If so, keep it at the door."

"Don't worry about him, or her, whatever. Ryder's my name."

"Ringo."

"Ah yes, well, you won't like what I'm about to do…"

 **4**

In her usual spot on her friends back, was the body of "Ring-goe", draped over his shoulders. She walked along, arms forward, back the way untill they once more stood before the dark skinned man and his bare-chested friend.

She carefully traced the male (Chappie) with her eyes, is that what they look like? Why did this one in particular wear nothing? Is his skin thick, thicker than the others? This one was not much muscle, it was just flesh, pink flesh.

She herself had a naturally muscled body, arms legs and all. It confused her how similar its arms were to hers, not as strong probably, but the similarities were there.

Growing hungry again, her stomach rumbles, and she picks clean one of her talons with a tooth. Still staring mind you, at the one known as Chappie.

"Hey, uh, kid, I mean, man!" Chappie stuttered, eyes full of dread.

"Chap don't interrupt me when I-"

"It's his pet, it wants to eat me!"

Ryder opens his palms, gesturing to her. "Will you relax? Chap?" He steps over Ringo, who lay on the ground nearby, kicking his side as he did so, and crouches down to her.

"Aw, whose a good Deathclaw? _You_ are, that's who. Come here you..."

So for the next few moments, he scratched her head and spoke to her in a weird way (Baby talk). Most _sane_ would do this to household pets, like dogs, cats, maybe birds if they had them, but Deathclaw's? Unheard of in the Mojave.

Joe, and Chappie, each had one eyebrow higher than the other. Chappie voiced what they both were thinking a minute later, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

"This is the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"I know, but this guy's taken down Ringo, with his Deathclaw, we'll take the town too, no sweat."

Now she was on her back, Ryder was scratching and tickling her underbelly and neck with hands that were but a blur. Its tongue draped out the side of its mouth, it was having the time of its life.

It couldn't have looked more like a dog if it tried.

"We'll just go on with it, alright?"

Chappie nods.

"Hey, uh, Ryder is it? Our guys will be here soon, and-"

"Naw, your _ticklish!_ Hey, Cobb! Its goddamn _ticklish!_ "

"We need-"

"Supplies? No problem! I'll see what I can do!"

Ryder stood up, towering over the apparent paralysed form of the Deathclaw, who hadn't _quite_ recovered herself as of yet.

Ryder taps his foot, looking between her and the Powder Gangers.

"Think I went too far?"

No one responded, couldn't, really.

Ryder shrugged. "Ah well, be back in a bit."

He hoists up the Deathclaw to his arms, carrying it like Trudy had. "By the way," he turns to them. "How many guys are there going to be?"

"A few of us, maybe seven."

"No problem, be right back!"

He strode back to town. When he was out of earshot, they spoke.

"How did he know?" Chappie asked, dumbfounded.

"I saw him buying some Mentats, things must _really_ work."

Unknown to the Powder Gangers, Ryder held a constant grin.

A half hour passed, and Joe and Chappie sat on the rocks off to the side of the road, too dumbstruck to bother with looting Ringo, who Ryder had placed down next to the shitty houses wall. A bit of commotion behind them made them look up from their game of Caravan they played on the rocks.

Three men, all wearing prison guard armour, was led over by Red.

 _Still got that stupid hat on,_ Joe thought, a hint of his annoyance showing on his lips.

"How many did I ask you to get?"

Red had a smile on his face, but now he was stood across from Cobb, it faded away.

A moment passed to think. "Uh, f-four?" He said the last word at a higher pitch.

Joe puts an arm around Red's shoulders. "That's right, four… _fourrrr._ And how many are standing behind you? Come on, count em'."

Red didn't need to, but he looked anyway.

"T-Three?"

"Yep. Three. You're lucky I don't beat your brains out here and now, you dumb fuck. Your _also_ lucky we have help from the inside of town."

"Who, boss?"

To answer him, Ryder and the Deathclaw approached from the road, Ryder held a large bag over one shoulder. Again, he was smiling wide.

With a short toss, the bag lands before the Powder Gangers.

"Stim's, drugs, all for you guys." Ryder said proudly.

The Gangers dug in, each one taking a pair or two of stimpack's, which looked like the Jesus Cross, only about the size of a hand, the syringe on the end was filled with a chemical that could heal just about any wound. Though how this worked, Ryder, not even Joe and his gang, knew.

Just when Red was about to take his share, Joe stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"No, give those to Ryder here, go back and give a good word to Eddie about our Deathclaw friend."

Red shook under Joe's fair grip. "What? But I just got here, and you-"

"Need you? No, we'll be fine, now let the boss know about our knew friend, I'll send someone down when we are done here."

Practically boiling in anger, Red stomped off, taking the long trek back to the prison again, he was nothing but a messenger boy, who had little say against someone like Cobb.

Joe hands over the stim's to Ryder, who pockets them wordlessly.

"Towns got a militia set up Cobb, sure you don't want that guy here?"

"Nah, besides, I'd say Eddie'll want to thank you in person after all this shit."

"Good. Now, shall we?"

"Let's. On me boys!"

In a V formation, the Powder Gangers marched slowly up the road to Goodsprings, Ryder and his friend took up the rear, but kept their distance.

Suddenly Ringo, who had patiently slumped against the wall the whole time, sat up and drew his gun, and fired twice.

One landed in Joe's left armpit, and one in the back of his neck.

All the Gangers turned their backs, and saw their leader fall to the ground, spraying crimson puddles on the ground.

Now behind them, Trudy, Pete, and most of the town opened fire on the exposed leaderless gang.

Chappie darted left, head hidden behind a rock, firing blindly with his rifle. He had those wide eyes the whole time.

But when he heard growling behind him, they probably would've burst.

He slowly peeks around his shoulder, but he was already pinned to the ground before he saw the Deathclaw behind him. His heart pounded his chest as it grumbled into his ear.

"No! Please!"

Two of her talons stuck through his throat, he could see the bloodied blades in front of his eyes before the darkness overtook him.

Meanwhile Ryder hunched over Joe's body, he took the magnum from his fallen corpse – holster as well – and made it his own.

As he flipped Joe over and took what little ammo he held, Joe's eyes darted to his, the man was still _alive_.

"Fucker… wha-"

"Next time Cobb, don't let someone wander unattended."

Cobb died with a look of shock in his eyes. It all pieced together just before he faded away from this world. Ryder had tricked him, played him like a Caravan deck, warning the town of the coming storm while he sat on his ass on the edge of town, to taken back by his help to notice.

And now Red was going to put in a good word for this Deathclaw tamer.

His last thoughts as he stared with his head arched in the towns direction, was _Mayor Cobb…_

Ryder tested out Joe's magnum on one of the Gangers, who had his back to him behind the water tank. It clapped like thunder, forcing his arm to recoil upwards in a sudden jerk. But his aim was precise, the man's head was now but a puff of red cloud.

The final two were laid to rest by the local militia with little trouble. The shootout the Powder Gangers anticipated was but a few short minutes of a slaughter.

Trudy, wielding a shotgun and followed by easy Pete (who held a revolver) stood before the fallen bodies, clearly not happy for this to be over.

"You done well, boy. A good plan." said Pete.

"It won't be enough, you may have doomed us all Ryder. The Gangers will come looking for Cobb sooner or later." Trudy said blandly.

"Where is there base? I might go pay a visit."

"Just on your lonesome? No offense, but even with a Deathclaw, you won't clear them out. Unless…"

Ryder holstered 'his' gun, and waited patiently for Trudy to finish.

"Unless the NCR will help you, it was _there_ prison, after all. Maybe you can help them take it back."

Ryder was reluctant, he despised NCR obviously, but no one except his family knew that. The last thing he wanted to do was give them more ground, but maybe he had little choice in the matter.

Oh well, he'd be right.

"They're at Primm, that's the closest I've seen them, try there."

"Alright, thanks Trudy."

"Ryder!"

They all turned, Ringo and the Deathclaw were walking towards them, Ringo held a small sack that jiggled with money. He handed it over with glee.

"I owe you for this, playing dead like that was pretty _smart_ , I only wish you came here sooner."

"No worries man."

"Look me up at the Crimson Caravan Company in Vegas, I'll let them know of your help."

Surprisingly, Ringo brought Ryder forward into a hug, he awkwardly returned it.

"Woah- alright then,"

He pries him off, and Ringo claps his shoulders.

"Thank you, I'm staying a while longer, care for a drink?"

"Sorry, I gotta deal with the rest of these guys now."

"I wish you the best."

They exchanged goodbyes, Ryder looked up to the sky, the sun had begun to set below the western mountains. With any luck, he could reach the prison by morning.

 _He_ wasn't tired, but his little friend was. And he only noticed this after Trudy gave him some fresh produce – consisting of potatoes and meat – and he was halfway down the road due south about an hour's walk from Goodsprings.

Her hands were red with dry blood, and she whined a growl at him, it got his attention quickly.

"Just a little walk, and we will-"

Another whine, this one sounded almost like a high pitched ' _Noooo'_.

Not a good spot, out here in the open on the road, he heard a dog bark, and the sound of a dying Gecko off to the east. It was getting a bit darker, but not much.

"Fine." he said, scanning around. They made their way slightly west of the road, and set up near the walls of a great red boulder. Ryder piled up a handful of twigs and grass into a pile while his friend lay on the ground nearby.

She watched him with droopy eyes, he pulled out a small box, and inside _that_ , he pulled out a small stick, with a red knob on one end.

He struck the stick against the box three times. Each one was accompanied by him saying ' _Fukin' thing.'_ Until finally the knob burst into a cute flame. Soon the pile was lit, and burning peacefully away.

The days in the Mojave were hot, almost unbearable on rare days, but the nights were always cold, and the fire did little to comfort the small Deathclaw. She shivered.

Ryder sat down opposite the fire of her, knees bent, arms resting on them, back against the rock. He watched the fire, but soon his eyes closed, and his breathing became even.

She scooted around the fire, soon laying next to him, a sleepy expression on her face. She tugged at his cloak for a few moments, wrapping it around herself like a blanket. She made his hip a sort of pillow, and soon followed him into slumber.

Unconsciously, he wrapped an arm around her.


	4. Chapter 4: Purification I

**Purification**

 **1**

Back in the glory days, humans ruled over everything. Land, sea and air, nothing was untouchable or uncontrollable by human hands, the idea of animals – through the help of radiation – ascending above humans in the new worlds food chain was unthinkable, yet here it is, year 2281, where the powers of the old world turned the planet into fire, and made such a thing a reality.

The glory days, where you could walk more than ten feet without having to kill a mutant gecko, or a snake and dog hybrid, or a mutant lizard. Glory days where your neighbours weren't flaky ghouls, or trigger-happy junkies with guns.

To the northwest of Vegas, the Purifiers stood before a ranch in the middle of nowhere. About ten armed men and women, wearing green combat armour wielding machine guns, crouched behind their leader, Big Bessie.

Her name suited her perfectly, she was plump, remarkably so even in a time of apocalypse. She brushed away her dirty brown hair with one fat arm, revealing her narrowed face to the ranch's inhabitants, who stood huddled together in front of her.

Her dark green armour (almost as thick as her flesh) gave none of her pale skin away to the sun, her helmet was tucked away under her left arm, and her right was holding her signature weapon: Little Bessie.

Little Bessie was a scoped metallic gauss rifle, fifteen coils wrapped around the long barrel. Its rusted stock sat comfortably against Bessie's shoulder, it was no mistake it was aimed at the ranchers.

The ranch leader, Brooks, held her flaked arms upwards in surrender. She wasn't armed, none of her 'flock' where, which made this all the more easier for the _Purification._

"Need I remind ye all of why we're here, eh Brooks?" said Bessie, her voice was shrewd, and its sent chills down all spines, plus her men and women too.

Brooks looked up at the intimidating six-foot-something human, her irradiated green eyes were filled with worry, and she began pleading, knees now on the dirt, hands clasped in front of her.

"Please Bess! We - we have nowhere to go and - and this is our home!"

"Home isn't here _Brooks_ , I gave ye many a chance to leave, and what have ye done? Nothing!"

"I'm begging you, we will die out there! We can't leave or-"

"Your right about that, you can't leave, not anymore."

Bessie placed her powered helmet atop her big dome, twisting and locking it in place with a hiss. She beckoned a crude finger towards Brooks and her pack of ranchers, like a messiah accusing them of becoming interlopers.

"Bess, don't-"

"Kill them."

Like cattle to the slaughter house, each ghoul was butchered with dozens of holes riddled into their bodies, the Purifiers showed no mercy, and as Brooks dove to the ground, she heard the cries and screams of her flock as they died around her. Tears swelled up in her eyes as she begged the higher powers for a chance to live.

As her Purifiers blasted away, each flash of muzzle lit up Bessie's helmet slightly, those eyes of hers concealed behind thick steel were filled with cold joy.

Fountains of blood stained the ranch fields, and as the hundreds of bullets tore through flesh, Brook's pleas where answered, because as her pack was painted crimson, her face covered in dirt, she was the last one to live – and the bullets had stopped flying past her.

By the scruff of her neck, Brooks was lifted up by Bessie, despite her terrible health, Bessie was strong, and Brooks' legs dangled under her as she was lifted in the air by one great arm.

Bessie made sure their faces were mere inches apart, her voice was now filtered by the helmet, but this made her all the more terrifying to Brooks, who began choking on her words as Bessie's hand wrapped her throat almost twice over.

"Go then, there are other places then this, let it be known that we won't tolerate yer filth, do spread word about this Brooks, for your life's sake."

Struggling under her iron grip, Brooks nods rapidly.

Without care, Bessie releases her throat, and she tumbles to the ground, coughing and wheezing as she struggled to get her bearings. She looked up once more to Bessie, who had now aimed her rifle at her feet.

"Now _run_ ghoul! _Run!"_

How that cows voice was crazy.

Stumbling still, Brooks made a full sprint south, not knowing exactly where she was to go now, but anywhere that was far from Bessie was a good place.

One of Bessie's lieutenants, Seth, a redhead with slim glasses that pinched his nose every day, came up to Bessie's flank, and they watched as the robed ghoul scrambled away down to the nearest road.

"You… didn't kill her, why?" he asked, arching his brows.

"Little brats don't learn their lessons if there dead. She'll pass these on, make our job easier."

"Being a Purifier is hard work."

"Hard, but rewarding."

"Yes."

Bessie aimed down her scope, sights lined with Brooks' ever distant head, she clenched the trigger, but moved her sights to her leg at the last second (The rifle shot sounded like _**wha-TANG**_ ). A small shockwave of energy exploded on Brooks' leg, and she collapsed, as if she had tripped on a rogue tree branch.

Not enough to kill her, but enough to get the message across.

Confirming that, Brooks stood up after a while, and limped away, most likely crying, Bessie thought.

Bessie looked back at the pile of ghoul bodies, then the houses of the ranch, she raised her rifle, aiming down at them.

"Start looting!"

As her Purifiers picked clean the bodies and houses like hungry vultures, Big Bessie reloaded her rifle, and contemplated on the day's work.

One less pack to deal with, and she was almost glad of Brooks' ignorance.

 **2**

When Ryder was young, on his days on the long roads of life outside the Mojave, it was by chance he had found his first set of Mentats. Not fate, no. Fate is an ugly word, and using it made Ryder feel small, unwanted, as if his life was but a script in a song, never to change.

 _I can change,_ he told himself, and he almost believed that.

But Mentats had become his life force, and would do many things both good and bad, but his thirst for another pill would never be quenched.

When he first 'knocked one back', he was crouched behind an abandoned barn in Legion territory. The pack of pills was practically untouched, and he held one of the red pills his hands, studying it, taking in the details.

 _What if my family found out? Did anyone else take drugs? What do these things taste like? Why am I so hungry right now?_

Too many wrong questions.

He had been the first one of his family to become a junkie, and he felt ashamed and angered at himself when the first _buzz_ left his system. His dad had suspicions, but never found out about the _tats,_ may never.

Screw them, they all thought him stupid, but on that day behind the barn, he changed, and he savoured the look on their faces when he suddenly knew all these new things, as if magic was a reality.

Oh, but when the _buzz_ ended, he took a good look at himself, and all he saw… was a wreck, a lonely wreck that couldn't live up to the family standards.

 _What the hell am I doing?_

That was the right question.

So when he awoke the day after the Goodsprings 'shenanigan', and saw his arm wrapped around a baby Deathclaw, whom had curled up beside him in his cloak, he whispered that question to himself.

"What the hell am I doing?"

Not loud enough to wake the beast, but enough for it to snuggle closer to him, tucking its head in, making one of its horns pinch his side slightly.

The question wasn't directed solely to the fact he had 'taken in' a vicious killing machine, it was half aimed at his current situation after the _buzz_ left him.

The Mentats told him hunting down the Powder Gangers was necessary.

But why?

He didn't _have_ to, no, he could just walk off right now and… and go somewhere.

 _Can't think of something?_ His father's voice sang through his head, _Why don't you take your drugs then, you incompetent boy?_

 _Why don't you piss off?_ He thought right back, making the voice go silent.

But he had already pissed off hadn't he? Gone north - New Canaan, 'continue the legacy' was his last words before disappearing so long ago.

Ryder hated him for that, leaving him an ma'. Although truth be told Ryder didn't want to go with him. Why? Maybe he was just sick of walking roads, sick of leaving too many homes behind. Or maybe he simply had enough of all of it, and needed to support his mother.

Yet here he was, going to some prison, with a Deathclaw in tow.

At least he wasn't alone anymore, yet a mute Deathclaw couldn't fill the hole his family left when they died/left, he could visit his mother anytime, but she was… well…

He shook his head, no time for reminiscing. He looked again at the little mutant next to him, and slowly undid the blanket of his cloak around it, without waking it, of course, it was slow and tedious, but eventually it slumped next to him, both arms wrapped around his belly.

He took in its details. It had several small spikes lining the centre of its back, which looked similar to the three or so fangs that hung out of the sides of its maw. Its chest rose and fell peacefully, and he examined the well toned muscles across its body, for a new born, it certainly worked out!

His eyes drifted to its stomach, then inevitably, its lower regions, and one question popped in his head as he stared.

Boy, or girl?

Well, he certainly didn't see a 'member', but then again neither did the others at the quarry. Maybe its retractable…

He blinked stupidly, this was weird, he was… _examining_ … an animal for genitals, he shuddered.

Once more, Ryder was oblivious to the fact the Deathclaw was awake, and was watching him watch _her._

And when he saw her eyes, he felt his cheeks burn (for some reason) and he made an awkward smile.

"Oh - hey! Uh, sleep well? Yes? That's good. Hungry? I am, HA!"

Quickly, he whips out the small steak Trudy gave him from his pocket, halves it with his bare hands, and gave one to it. It accepted it gleefully.

He let out a tight breath of air, why did he even feel embarrassed? It was an animal, it didn't know what he was doing… right?

Such a question had little chance of an answer.

After he finished, he stood up and slowly walked away from the dying fire, its last spittle's of flame shot out like bullets.

"Gotta take a leak." he said, not expecting it to understand, but said it anyway.

Ten paces later, he zipped down his fly, and 'did his business'.

Unsurprisingly, he heard the Deathclaw's clicking talons behind him, and he swerved his head around, and they stared at each other for a while, Ryder still going at it.

 _He_ was looking at its burning eyes, while _it_ was looking between his legs, at least he had his back to it, so it saw nothing.

"I'm… trying to, you know…" Ryder quivered, his eyes uneasy in such an exposed position.

What happened next dreaded him.

A sudden stream of liquid poured out between the Deathclaw's legs, and if _that_ didn't make him turn away instantly – with a look of pure shock on his face – then the fact that it never took its eyes off of him did.

"Oh, come on. Right now? Sheesh…"

Curiosity is a bitch.

He fought the urge to answer his past question with sheer will, but his head was magnetised to his little companion standing a few feet behind him, and he peered at it through the corners of his eyes.

No member.

So… was it a girl? Or do Deathclaw's not have-

 _Enough of that!_ He thought to himself, zipping up his pants and stretching his neck, which cracked three times over on each side.

He waited for the trickle of liquid to stop behind him – which went on for a while, making him ask it 'what're you, a Brahmin?' – and once it stopped, he went back to the fire, squatted, and placed his hands under his chin.

So, should he go to this prison? The town was counting on him, but…

Ryder remembered the money Ringo gave him, he remembered two hundred caps in the bag, quite a bit, if Ryder said so.

Of course! Money got you a lot of things, _that's_ what the _tats_ were trying to tell him, money, he would get _money_.

His little friend was now at his left side looking up at him. He could swear he noticed something strange about its appearance now that it was stood up.

Had it grown taller?

Yesterday it was barely at his knee, so to test it, he stood up. Sure enough, its head was now slightly _above_ his knee, if you didn't count the two horns, which made it a few inches taller.

He laughed at himself, if this thing stuck with him, would it grow to be as big as those at the quarry? He imagined introducing it, a ten foot giant, into the next town. "Hey! Meet my friend Deathy the Deathclaw!" and all the people would be like: "Oh shit!" then he'd be like: "Nah, chill…"

Below him, the Deathclaw made a series of gruff's and growls, the equivalent of a laugh, he and _she_ bobbed in sync with each laugh, making Ryder almost hunch over in joy.

"Smart little one, aren't you?" he asked it solemnly.

The Deathclaw nodded.

"Can you understand me?"

It said nothing, nor shook its head.

Alright, so maybe it knew how to acknowledge, but not much else. So… more Mentats!

So this morning, he whipped out two chalky red pills from his pack, and presented them to her. She knocked both back easily, and he just noticed her eyes grow brighter at once…

He counted the remaining _tats,_ five left, he decided to save them for now, and pocketed them.

"Thirsty?" he said, revealing the almost full bottle of Good-Springs-Water.

It did nothing.

"No? Then do this." Ryder shook his head, it copied him. He then took out the small potato, waving it back and forth.

"Bit hungry?"

It nodded.

 _Perfect_.

She ate half of it, then spat it out, picking her teeth clean with her scythe nails.

"Don't like it?"

It shook its head.

Yep. A smart Deathclaw, he dreamed of the possibilities, more Mentats, more smarter…

No. He knew overdosing was insane, and it would be no different if it was animal or human, he held back the urge to give it more, and stood up.

"C'mon, let's go meet these Powder Gangers."

He clipped on his helmet, and they walked on east, side by side.

The Deathclaw learnt about head signals, but also more on how his mouth worked.

 **3**

The duo had spied the prison from afar on the road to Goodsprings, so they knew where they were headed. They crested hills, crossed fields of radiated bugs, and trekked past small groups of Powder Gangers, who waved at them before Ryder could. Clearly Cobb's good word had him and his Deathclaw in the good books.

Word would spread quickly across the Mojave, stories and rumours about a kid who had tamed a Deathclaw through unknown reasons. Most would shrug this off as pure lies, stories for the young mayhap, but as time passed on, rumours would turn upside down, and everyone would soon know the names of the kid and the Deathclaw.

But for now, the Crimson Caravan Company had one member who had seen this for himself, all in Goodsprings believed it, and the Powder Gangers knew this as well, it was a reasonable start, but rumours can be… _dangerous_ , if the wrong people believed it for the right reasons.

A tame Deathclaw? Who wouldn't want to get there grubby hands on that? And a kid? Easy to kill, obviously.

But for now, they were just rumours.

Like in the bottom of a bowl, the prison was wedged between mountain ranges, its spotlights were on, despite it being a dusky yet still somewhat bright day, and they shone brightly out of the four corner guard towers, making large white spots on the surrounding fields.

Man and Deathclaw stood up on a large hill like snipers, scanning the prison's fences, the yard, the admin building, all of it looked sturdy, and well guarded. At least one sniper was perched in each tower, but none seemed to bother looking for trouble, didn't expect any.

But nearby the duo, hidden by a trench-like long pile of dirt, was a fair sized group of military, as Ryder and his companion approached there rear, almost all their guns trained on him.

Improvised bedrolls on the left, small boxes with stacked guns on the right, all accompanied by tanned armoured peacekeepers, it was a small NCR camp, and a woman with a red beret on her head, trench coat swaying behind her – clearly the leader – approached him.

"Hold up now, this is a militarized zone, NCR, you best be on your way before you get us seen."

She narrowed her eyes at his Deathclaw, but didn't comment.

"I'm here to get rid of these Powder Gangers." said Ryder, not caring about the many guns on him.

"By yourself? Good luck with that, even we can't punch through the walls, perhaps you-"

"Can help, yes."

Beret lady crossed her arms, clearly annoyed at the interruption. "How, may I ask, do you suppose you can do that?"

"One second."

He turns his back on the NCR, takes a few paces away from them all, unravels his _tats_ , takes two, shakes, turns back, and becomes his _other_.

"Alright, first things first (the word 'first' sounded more like 'foist' in his accent) I'm going in, and see if they can't come out peacefully."

The young pretty face of the Captain of the Military screwed up in confusion and disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You guys can't just kill them all, right?" ( _Roit_ ) He looks to the other troopers. "Right?"

"Kid, they'll string you up soon as you go in, I don't think it's going to work, Deathclaw or not."

"C'mon, you really want to tell your superiors that slaughtering up the place is the face of NCR? How would the wastes take that?"

She pondered on this, hand scratching her chin, eyes on the Deathclaw.

"Hmmm?" he pushed, knowing full well already he had won her over, NCR were nothing if not desperate for hired help.

"No protocol for an outsider to help but… Alright, but if we hear shooting, were going in, but it'll probably be too late for you. Just back up over the hill a bit before you go waltzing up to the Facility. Men! Eyes on the target, ears open."

With that, she went to the front of her troop, ordering them all to get set for contact.

Ryder turned and hunkered by the Deathclaw, he nodded.

So did it.

"Thanks for keepin' your cool. I know I did."

Another nod. Ryder couldn't help but smile at it, he rubs a hand on its head, between the left horn and neck, making it lean into his touch.

Small earthquakes sounded off behind him. Followed by a ' _Yoo-hoo!'_ from a grubby mouth. The Deathclaw went wide eyed, and stood motionless as it stared at the source behind him. He stood up, and turned on his heel to face it.

Face _up_ at it.

An amazingly plump woman wearing heavy power armour (maybe not as heavy as her) stood towering over him, she held a massive helmet under one arm, while her other brushed at her dirty hair, which could be mistaken for a tumbleweed.

He studied the armour, not a T-45, or its bigger cousin the T-51, but something _much_ more thicker, thicker than this ladies skin, maybe.

She was shadowed by a redheaded man, thin glasses on the tip of his nose, looking awfully creepy in the convenient lighting behind Ryder. The 'Brahmin-turned-human' woman outstretched her free hand, a grin as wide as Ryder's face spread across her features.

"Hey there boy, glad to see some real guts in the NCR. What's yer name?"

Steeling the urge to vomit at the putrid breath of the _actual_ beast in front of him – she smelt a bit like charred sausages mixed with rotten tomato's, all of it acidified in that building she'd call a stomach – he confidently took her fat hand covered with steel and shook it, giving his name in return.

She smiled and said, "I'm Bessie. This is-"

Now the flamed-headed man extended his own, which seemed rather bony, and felt as if his skeleton was being shaken, not his hand. Ryder could faintly hear the sounds of popping bones as the hand went up and down.

"Seth. How do you do?"

Seth's voice matched his freakish gaze, and behind Ryder's helmet, his face was that of disgusted bewilderment. Seth droned out his name, and the word 'do' in a manner that could've competed to a murderer or psychopath.

 _Or a murdering psychopath,_ Ryder thought, _my hand is shivering just touching him._

"Okay." Ryder said with wide eyes and a fake smile, forcefully taking back his hand, with relief as Seth separated from him.

It had seemed the Deathclaw sensed his uneasiness, and shared it with him, as if the two were some sort of hive mind. It (she) clutched one arm to his leg, and lowly grumbled, maybe curse words or something in her tongue.

"And who is this little guy huh? Yer little friend?" said the cow.

Bessie planted two heavy knees on the ground – her height now the same level as Ryder's eyes – and waved one slow hand to the Deathclaw, meaning to stroke it like Ryder had done.

But Ryder need not stop her, the Deathclaw nipped at Bessie's outstretched fingers, and amazingly – even to Seth and Bessie – indented the steel on her fingertips.

"Oh you little bi..." Bessie murmured as she pulled her hand back, "Oh! I mean, playful little thing aren't you!?"

The 'little thing' shook its head.

"Sorry about that, does that quite often." Ryder lied, smirking his concealed mouth.

Shaking it off, Bessie stood back up, focused now on Ryder,

"Indeed, and did ye… _teach_ it how to shake its head like that? Or is that natural as well?"

"Yep, taught it. Caught on very quick."

"Yeah?" said Seth, stepping up beside Bessie, bony finger pointed forward. "Is that your resolution? Teach animals new tricks?"

"No, but I can guess what yours is, Bess." Ryder pointed his own finger to the Brahmin.

"Do tell."

"Make Seth gain twenty pounds so you look thinner."

Ryder slapped his knee, and cackled at his own joke, he was joined by his 'pet' who nodded apprehensively. Though what annoyed Bessie most was the cracked laughing from Seth, who when under her iron gaze, ceased his fit and went seriously freaky once more.

"Funny." Bessie said bitterly.

"Oh boy, wasn't it?" but when Ryder wheezed this out, then saw his Deathclaw's nods, he started up again, going on like this for a minute or so.

When he ceased, and regained his composure, he rubbed his Deathclaw, then brought his attention to the freaky duo.

"If you'll excuse us, we need to go now."

"One last thing," Bessie said sourly. "why bother with these pests? They terrorise the wastes, they're not worth the effort."

"No, there scum yes, but, let's give em' a chance, right? We all need a chance."

"I find that hard to believe, Ryder."

And in some part of Ryder's mind, maybe in his true self, his true _other_ , he agreed with her. But the Mentats didn't.

"They need to be purified, all the scourges do, don't you think?"

Ryder thought a moment before answering. "Maybe not all. See you guys around,"

"And good fortune to ye, boy."

Ryder already turned and crested the nearby mound of dirt before Seth ushered his goodbye. Bessie looked on at them with sharp eyes for a moment, before ordering Seth to accompany her back to the NCR front.

 **4**

Ryder and his companion stood between two of the prison watchtowers, which were connected with a high barbed wired fence. In the centre of said fence was a gate, its wires crossing each other infinitely, making small X shapes with each crossing. It slipped effortlessly open with well oiled hinges and wheels, revealing the first narrow walkway of the prison to them as Ryder pushed it open.

They walked down it, the sides littered with old clusters of scrap, and signage dotted the fences here and there – saying things like NO ENTRY or CORRECTIONAL FACILITY – NOT ANYMORE!, pretty standard stuff for a gang like this.

He expected to be swarmed by the gang, patted down, questioned, searched, asked for reasons why he was here with a Deathclaw, searched _again_ …

But no, all he saw was a lone man in the Powder Ganger setup, leaning against the stone wall near the door at the end.

Perhaps he was bored at his job, or he just couldn't give a damn that Ryder had quite literally walked up to the base of the Powder Gangers.

"Look at you," the man said, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "walking in here like your one of us- Oh, Deathclaw, yep, heard about you, how's Joe?"

"Good," Ryder smiled. "come to tell the boss the big news."

"Yeah, alright, big admin building in the north side of the yard, he's in there."

"Thanks." Ryder went to push the door open, but the man said more.

"And keep that thing-"

"On a short leash," Ryder finished. "I know."

They entered.

Inside was as dirty as the world outside, tables chewed up by bugs and bent by weight were lined randomly at the far wall of the block. On the left was a bar, with two Powder Gangers going at one another (one had beat the other in a hand of Caravan, easy to get upset over, obviously), and a shirtless man was stacking cups to see how high he could go. Behind him was a rainbow of drinks, each one sparkling from the lights on the roof.

Ryder wasted no time with these people, instead motioning wordlessly for the Deathclaw to follow him to the far door, which it did.

The brawlers fight made their way in front of Ryder's path, smacking faces, pulling hair, gritting teeth. The duo waited patiently for them to move on before heading out the far door, into the yard.

The yard was open and flat like a plate. The fences made him feel like cattle in a cage, once again Ryder saw more men, fighting, drinking, pissing in the corners, it felt disgusting just to be here.

 _And I wanna resolve this peacefully?_

To his left was the admin building, the windows on its sides shone like bright cruel eyes, and in one particular frame – third story, second on the right – was a bulky figure, smoking, staring right through Ryder and his friend.

They pass the Gangers in the yard like phantoms at night, wordlessly, breathlessly, never once causing trouble or stirring up the hornets' nest.

Before they entered the admin, out of the corner of Ryder's eyes, just for a moment, he thought he saw a glint of sunlight flicker off a piece of thick steel outside the fence.

Inside was cells, rows of them, with husks of flesh that couldn't be called corpses filling the small spaces in them. At the desks sat heavy armoured men wielding pistols, shooting at the limbs of the dying for target practice.

One such armoured man walked up to Ryder (maybe the man in the window from before), who didn't return the smile Ryder offered. The man had a black eye patch over his right eye, and a gray spike of hair that stuck out of his head like a stick.

"Boss' this way." he said, never once did his mean face diminish as he led Ryder and his companion to the stairs – past more cruel torturing of countless victims – and into the boss mans room.

Small paintings on the back wall were vandalised, a moustache painted on a woman's face, hair on a bald mans painted head, stuff like that. The centre of the room was the desk of the boss – Eddie – who sat with his hands clasped, like an evil doer planning his secret demise. He was flanked by two heavily armoured men with riot helmets, one had a pistol, the other held a baseball bat, who tapped the end of the wooden bat into his other hand menacingly.

Eddie waves one hand to the one free chair before returning his hands back again. Ryder takes it, Deathclaw at his side.

"Red! Here!" Eddie called like he would a dog. A moment later, a man wearing a red cap walked in behind Ryder.

"This him, Red?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good, take off that stupid hat and wait outside."

Red did just that. Eddie leaned forward in his chair, outstretching one hand.

"Eddie."

Shaking hands, Ryder replied his own.

"So, why have you come with your little pet? Is it your… security?"

"Somewhat, yes."

"Ah yes, perhaps you'd like to tell me how you tamed such filth. Maybe let us umm – take it for a while?"

"No."

"Oh, but you are so defensive! It's a killing machine, so are we all, everyone in this room is a killer, don't you agree?"

Ryder looked down at the Deathclaw, saying nothing.

"How many people have you killed, Ryder? Do their faces come at you in your sleep? Ours do, aint that right guys?"

A series of 'Yeah boss' sounded off, then silence again.

"But we get on with life, we kill, we steal, everyone does, that's how we get along in this world. And if we had your little friend-"

"I've come to get you all to surrender."

Eddie laughed humourlessly, as did the other three in the room. Eddie's face went from joy to anger in a flash, and he leant forward in his seat.

"You? And your little pet? Not in this life, kid, not in this life."

"No." Ryder smiled. "NCR, a few dozen, out the walls, ready to pounce."

"Nice one kid, I almost believe you, but back to the matter at hand, how did you get a baby lizard? Surely its parents didn't simply let you keep it."

"It – it was lost."

Ryder stuttered, and Eddie knew it instantly, and grinned horribly.

"Now kid, I know your lying. And if there's one thing I can help you with, it's this: Don't lie to the wolfs face. Now, are you gonna let us have that thing there? Or are we gonna have to settle this the hard way?"

Unseen, the Deathclaw readied its talons.

"Eddie, don't threaten the one who holds your only hope of living."

"Hard way it is, then."

The Deathclaw pounced up on Eddie, mauling his face with its sharp hands, sending him and his chair onto the floor on his back. Ryder spun around quickly, taking his magnum out with his right hand, firing three times at the one with the eye patch.

Two red holes appeared in his neck, one more snapped his lower jaw, sending it dangling down like a pendulum. He fell.

Spinning around again, he saw the pistol armed guard taking aim at him, while the other clubbed at the Deathclaw's back, who still clawed at Eddie's screaming face.

Ryder dove to the side, but one bullet caught his red eye lens, blinding his vision, he fired his remaining three rounds, only one scored hit, and that was at the man's armour, doing little.

At that, Red walked into the door.

"Hey! What's going on-"

Ryder grabbed at his legs, bringing him down to the ground with him. Ryder put his body behind Red's, using his as improvised cover.

Red had put his hat back on.

The pistol man ignored the Deathclaw, and fired six more times at Ryder, the bullets didn't make it to Ryder through Red, but he was surprised to find that he had shot his fellow Powder Ganger with little hesitation.

Ryder felt warm blood on his stomach, tags of flesh flew around him as his once living cover was torn apart by bullets.

He aimed his magnum, the hammer clicked back softly.

Empty.

He goes for his knife sheath.

Empty.

He tosses the revolver, landing a good hit in the man's neck, making him duck and gasp.

Ryder wasted none of this opportunity, he was up and over the armed guard before he even looked up, his body a blur.

Ryder punched his face, and regretted it, he wore glass in front of his eyes – bullet proof glass – and his knuckles howled with pain.

Ryder was blinded by the cracked lens, and had difficulty seeing where the man's gun was, he saw it a second later, barrel up against his right temple…

The Deathclaw covered the man's arm with its maw, and ripped it off as if it was made of thin string. The man howled, then his face was but a Deathclaw's, and he met a similar fate to the other Gangers a moment later.

Ryder snatched up his magnum, turned to the doorway, and saw another Ganger stood with wide legs, aiming a shotgun at them.

But behind _him_ , was the Brahmin, Bessie.

She fired two gauss shots to the Ganger's back, the small shockwave made the man's spine arch backwards, then hit the floor face first.

The first shot hit the Ganger, but the other went soaring past the Ganger, and hit the Deathclaw in the leg.

Ryder loaded his gun, sheathed it, then hunched over his mutant friend.

He ignored the stomping, shooting and fighting behind him as he held the Deathclaw's leg up.

"Shit, you alright?"

It groaned in pain, and shook its head, eyes closed.

"Shit, oh god…. Shit shit shit."

"Ryder! Oh my, the Ganger… is it alright?" Bessie said from behind him.

"No! It is certainly _not_!"

"Ye… ye must believe me when I say it was an accident!"

Ryder ignored her, taking out a stimpak from his cloak, and inserting the syringe into the wound on its leg.

"Ryder, that won't work-"

"I have to try."

It squirmed in his grip at the pain of the needle, forcing his arms away, but Ryder stayed firm.

"Shhh, easy, easy. There…"

The magic worked, the flow of blood that trickled like a lake down its leg seemed to lose its source, and the inner flesh lost its dense crimson colour.

The wound was like someone had taken a spoon, and scooped out a chunk of flesh, it wasn't deep, it looked like. But a huge circle around the hole was swelling up, crinkling like an old man's flesh.

He picked her up, baby-style, and turned towards the Brahmin.

No sound now, NCR had won.

"Is it better?"

"No, it's worse."

He brushed past her, and came out the way he came in, the block was empty aside from bodies of the dead, and the yard wasn't much different.

NCR marched about, picking clean the bodies and buildings.

One set of assholes, replaced by another.

"Forgive me Ryder, but I thought you wanted a peaceful resolution, what happened in there?" said Bessie, following him.

"I don't know, Bess, doesn't matter now. I gotta go."

"I'd like to offer ye a spot in my company, ye got out of that mostly unscathed, _you'd make a great_ _Purifier_."

He turns to her. "Unscathed? My friend was shot, by _you_. I'll take my chances elsewhere."

The lady with the Beret stopped him before he could get back to the main gate with a tug of a shoulder.

"Hey, I know we didn't settle a reward but…" she held up six notes of small green paper, he snatched it greedily, and left without a word.

Behind her, Bessie and Seth stood like gargoyles, watching on after the kid ran off to the south.

"Bessie, did you seriously shoot his pet?"

"It was an accident!"

"Are you lying Bess?"

"… Half."

Now in a half-run, Ryder held on to the pained Deathclaw, his eyes and heart full of panic. He stopped a short distance from the prison, and examined the Deathclaw again.

The stimpak actually _hadn't_ worked, the leg seemed to be getting worse by the second, and the pained growl of the Deathclaw didn't help.

"What's wrong?!"

It shook its head.

Had it had a reaction of some sort to the stimpak? Why had he given it human medicine anyway?

 _Are you stupid? Now it's going to die here and now_ , his thoughts said to him, making him breath heavily.

"Hold on, Primm's not far, maybe someone could help you, gah _fuck._ "

He picked up the pace.


	5. Chapter 5: Deep Roots

**Deep Roots**

 **1**

Before the war, Primm was a tiny town where Californians could gamble their lives away if they couldn't be bothered heading to Vegas. Now it's streets are rubble, and NCR had hastily enforced martial law on the citizens. The east side of Primm was where the few intact buildings remain, along with one of the only two major landmarks left intact by the recent trouble caused by the Powder Gangers.

One such landmark was the Bison Steve Hotel, which had a large spindly rollercoaster going above and around it, though dangerous, and not having been used in over two hundred years, it still got a few tourists to come have a look see.

The other was the Casino, called 'Vikki and Vance', here was where most of the townsfolk held out whilst the Powder Gangers ravaged and pillaged the town, though if you asked the man in charge of the Mojave Express, he'd tell you that 'NCR are just as bad, can't do anything without paperwork now, or being taxed to shit.'

But it was better than nothing.

Coming down the northern road to Primm was our – slightly dull and terribly young – Hero of Primm that would soon think that telling the townsfolk it was _his_ doing that NCR had gotten the town in their grasp, wasn't such a good idea.

Hero of Primm, The Thorn's Finest, Tamer of Deathclaw's… How many more titles would he get?

Didn't matter, he had two problems as he ran down that crumbled road to Primm.

The first, was his little friend's leg, it had gone discoloured and slightly crimpled ever since their involvement in the NCRCF assault. But this could have been caused by two possibilities. One, that the gauss shot had some sort of after affect on the little Deathclaw's skin, or two, the stimpak caused some sort of allergic reaction.

Either way, Ryder cursed himself for ever going and getting involved in the first place. What had he expected? A clean getaway? This thing was small, it didn't have thick skin, no armour, no nothing.

His other problem, was that he was running out of Mentats.

The last two had worn off quickly, and he had taken one in his run to Primm, leaving only two left.

He had only ever ran out once before, and he did _not_ want to relive it.

The Deathclaw whined again as it jostled in his arms due to his quick pace.

"Easy, just - just hold on."

She closed her eyes tightly, and they moved on.

A bridge connected the west (crumbled) side of town to the liveable east side, each separated by a low road that cut through Primm like a knife. But with no entrance apart from the western bridge that travelled over this low road, Ryder takes the path to his right.

A small barricade of sandbags shaped like a U held back one NCR trooper, the guard raised a hand when Ryder approached.

"No animals in Primm, sir."

Ryder clipped his helmet to his belt. "I helped with the prison, I'm going in."

The trooper got no more words in, Ryder had already passed him to the side of the bridge, which was another set of barricades on this side, along with some nearby tents bearing the Flag of the Bear.

He crossed the bridge, bits of the left side had tumbled away, but he crossed briskly.

Some people – four of them – crowded around two troopers on the main street corner of Primm, with raised hands and high voices, it was clear they were upset.

He and the Deathclaw drew near, and the conversation turned out to be rather colourful.

"-Cause you assholes can't keep your mitts of anything!" said an elderly gent wearing a black business suit.

"Sir, we are just following protocol-"

"Protocol my ass!" said another, who was actually a robot Protectron with a cowboy hat. "Law and order does not mean fining our hinds for living here!"

"Exactly!" said a dark woman, who was also rather old. Next to her was _another_ elderly man, dark skinned, dusty face – both shared colourless tacky overalls – he was happily smoking silently, until he spied Ryder behind them, turned, and walked slowly up to him.

"What's your name, son?" he said between two puffs, quite calmly so, as if the argument behind him had no effect on him.

"Ryder, you guys have a town doc, or something of the like?"

"You willing to pay? Not in caps, either."

"Please."

"Ruby."

The old lady turns around, and stares blankly at Ryder and the animal in his arms.

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Get the Express open, get your medicines ready as well."

"Will do."

"You, come."

Obeying the man's order, Ryder follows the elderly past the argument they had quite literally broken off of, the Protectron gave him a side glance, but didn't comment as he carried his friend past it.

They entered a thin two story building, which had a prominent MOJAVE sign atop its roof, which overlooked the main street. Inside was rather small but cosy, a bench greeted him, along with rows of small square slots for storing mail (Pigeon holes). A stack of boxes in the far corner, a table for three in the other.

"You? Or the Claw?"

"The Claw, Johnny." Ryder replied.

"Set it down on the bench, mind the scrapheap."

Ruby dashed to the far room at the back, while Ryder and Johnny set the Deathclaw down, it was mostly barren aside from a radio – currently off – and an old robot, which looked like a small eyeball, with many antenna's sticking out of it.

"You guys doctors?" Ryder asked after his little friend yelped in pain when set it down.

"Nope, wife's the closest we got right now."

Ruby appeared, holding a white medkit under her arm.

"Clear out boy, let me work in peace." said Ruby.

Ryder hesitated, but slowly walked away. But before he did so, a hand grasped his own, he looked down.

The Deathclaw's, and it was looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

He covered it with his other hand, and squeezed it back when it squeezed his.

"Thing really likes you, guess you could stay near. Johnny, bring him a chair."

He did so, bringing another for his own. He offered him some 'casseroles' and he accepted, though he had no idea what they were, they were quite delicious, but a little aftertaste countered that.

"What's in this thing?" he asked, chewing down on the last of the round brownish thing in his hands.

"Oh," Ruby answered whilst rapping a white cloth around the Deathclaw's leg. "Radscorpion Venom's the secret, though if it don't kill you dead, it's great, right?"

He spat it out, disgusted. "Venom!? Why'd you put-"

Johnson (not Johnny, Ruby just calls him that) finished his third one, and laughed heartedly.

"Have another one, we got plenty." he said.

"No thanks." Ryder replied, picking his teeth with his free hand.

"You loved it a second ago, we-"

The door behind them opened, and Ryder wasn't surprised to see yet _another_ older man with a white moustache step through the door. He wore black and red overalls, a knapsack draped over his front.

The bald man opened his palms, and stretched them forward, as if presenting himself to an audience.

"Did somebody say 'doctor'?"

"We did Mitch, Ruby here's helping this fine lad with his pet, care for a casserole?"

"No thanks John, let's see what's up with it then."

Bypassing a confused Ryder, 'Mitch' whipped out a cleaning kit of some sort, and started his magic on the wounded leg.

Ryder turns to Johnson. "How did he…"

"Quick word, Doc Mitchell hears all, nothing gets by him, nothin'." He pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "You smoke kid?"

Seeing the Deathclaw relax her grip on his hand, he agrees.

 **2**

The pain in her leg had eventually died down to barely irritable. During her fix up, 'Mitch' had to turn her leg this way and that, and due to her slight heaviness – and delicateness of her wound – it caused some problems.

Short lived problems.

Although today had short lived Mentats for Ryder, they had quickly impacted her with an abundance on knowledge. She quickly understood what they were trying to do, and when the Doc ask Ryder if he could 'make her lift her leg', she had already done so.

"Amazing," said the Doc. "truly something else."

Johnson told Ryder about his sudden hospitality whilst the Doc and Ruby fixed her up. He saw potential in Ryder (which surprised him greatly) and offered him some work for the Mojave Express. Delivery of mail and packages to various settlements, good pay, honest, and would be enough to repay for Mitch's and his services.

Ryder pondered on this, he didn't feel like staying, maybe one more trip before going back…

"Alright," Ryder said, shaking Johnson's hand. "Where am I going?"

"Mojave Outpost, shall we put down your details now?" he takes out a thick book.

Half an hour passed, Johnson had given him a knapsack, and a small round parcel wrapped in two layers of brown paper. They returned to the improvised 'operation bench' to see a Deathclaw sitting upright, rubbing one hand over the new and improved bandaging.

She saw Ryder, and she would have jumped had he and Mitch not beat her to it, holding her shoulders back.

"My work here is done." The Doc said, packing his things away. When he let go of her, she rubbed her head against Ryder's shoulder with much affection, though she wasn't done yet…

She – with care – forced Mitch to hold her baby-style, which he did with a laugh.

"It really likes that, so I've discovered, thanks Doc."

"No worries, just let her slowly put more weight on it, she'll get over it real quick. I suggest she avoids poisoned gunfire from here on out until she gets bigger."

He elaborated on the chemical that caused her much grief, a highly potent cytotoxin which causes agitation and a feeling of weakness to the wound. Of course, Ryder understood none of that, so he put it in more 'wastelander' terms.

A poison called Silver Sting, had been somehow infused into a bullet.

"May I ask who shot her?" asked Mitch.

"You know it's a 'she'?"

"The scale colour, females are dark blue. Anyway, who did this?"

"Some fat lady calling herself Bessie."

"Big Bessie? That might explain it then." said Ruby from behind the back wall.

"I'm surprised she didn't kill it." commented Johnson.

"Yeah, I may have called her fat but-"

"Oh, you do _not_ want to do that, kid, your most likely on her hit list for her Purifiers." continued Johnson. "Bunch of hunters and killers, expert toxin makers too."

They explained further on her and her group. How they 'Purified' anything non-human with either flame or poison, but she always gave ghouls and troublemakers second chances.

Ryder thought about her last words to him. "… _you'd make a great_ _Purifier_."

 _Indeed,_ he thought, remembering his first major exploit in the quarry…

He shook his head, and thanked them all.

"You give her a name yet?" asked Mitch, who handed back the Deathclaw, who snuggled up to Ryder's armoured chest.

"Have a few idea's, maybe 'Troublemaker', she bit Bessie fairly well on the hand."

The Deathclaw gave a toothy smile, and nodded her head.

"Takes after her owner, I reckon." replied Mitch, giving off a snicker.

He bid them farewell, and stepped out on the main street. The sun was getting low in its skyward journey, but camping out on the roads proved to be rather… comforting so far.

Johnson clasped his shoulder from behind, he turned.

"Lady owning a caravan, names Crystal, black-blue hair, looking for you most like, don't botch it up."

"I know Johnson, you told me that twice already."

"Alright, so long, son."

Before they parted, Ryder called his name again.

"Yes?"

"You all seem so… relaxed, about having a baby Deathclaw in your home, why is that?"

Johnson merely shook his head.

"When your old like us, son, you've seen pretty much everything, and a human caretaker of a lizard is hardly surprising. Now go, hoof it back real quick."

Johnson shut his door, and Ryder went on his way, not wanting to linger in the NCR's mitts.

 **3**

South-bound, when he was sure they were quite alone, Ryder set down his friend carefully, she struggled a bit, but with a bit of help and a few long minutes, she was able to limp slowly with him.

He hunkered next to her, giving her hide just behind the horns a scratch, which he had noted was her favourite spot.

"You think you can walk it?" he asked.

It shook its head.

"You just want me to carry you, is that right?"

He didn't expect it to nod quickly. He chuckled, then took a sip of water, he offered her some, but she wasn't thirsty.

"Gave me a real scare back there," he gave her maw a quick dab of water, washing off the drying blood which – apparently – didn't bother the three elders in Primm. "don't know why, really… But I'm glad your alright… Little Troublemaker."

She stared blankly at him, a small smile crept on her lips.

"Still need to get you a name. Any requests?"

It simply watched him. He took off his helmet from his hip and rubbed a finger over the broken lens.

"How about… Sarah?"

Shaking head.

"No, I didn't like that one either. I'm no good at names. Huh, so was my old man apparently, shared names, know what I mean?"

It didn't.

"Amelia?"

Nope.

"Ava?"

Nuh-uh.

He shot them at her. 'Clare, Felix, Joanna, Venecia.' none of them clicked, neither for her nor him.

These were but dead family names, mothers, sisters he once knew. Maybe that's why they didn't work, too much bad memories. No, this one's had to be something else entirely.

"No matter then, let's get moving."

They did.

 **4**

Lucy's shotgun had been one hell of a weapon, but Ryder hadn't even used it yet! So after side tracking to the fields east of the road to the Mojave Outpost – the checkpoint for all caravaners and newcomers coming to Vegas from the south, where the Vees Knees also passed through – he and his friend were tucked behind a small mound of dirt, and were overlooking a small field.

The shimmering of the hot air that warmed their faces could be seen up ahead, accompanied by two large Bighorners that grazed the barren ground for food. There red faces always had that 'pissed-off' look to them, even as they ate.

Parents, most like, two massive horns, hence the name.

"Let's see what you can do." whispered Ryder to his gun as he drew it from his side.

The Deathclaw went to stand, but he quickly pushed her back down with his left hand.

"Not you."

She drooped her eyes.

"Oh don't give me that look."

Those flaming eyes fluttered at him, and he was taken aback.

"Your leg!"

Tilted head now.

"No, let me shoot one, don't even think about running after the other, you heard the Doc." he points the shotgun forward. "Let's see…"

He relaxed his arms, loosened up, and lined up the sights with the Bighorners head on the right. Slowly, he squeezed the trigger.

Quite literally, the Bighorner's head exploded into a dusty red cloud, it slumped to the ground instantly. Ryder however, had to plant his tight foot back heavily to the ground to stop himself from toppling over. The butt of the rifle had amazing kick, and the heavy sound of the slugs proved this.

"Phew! I gotta get some more ammo for this – hey! What did I just say?!"

The Deathclaw had charged the other Bighorner, which had now sprinted in there opposite direction. This didn't bother her speed, however, as she soon jumped on top of it, and wrestled it to the ground quite quickly.

A crunch of flesh, a snap of a neck, and she soon began digging in.

He came up behind her.

"I thought I told you to… Christ you were only whining about an hour ago!"

Miraculous recovery, she was tough, and stubborn, apparently. He wanted to take a bit of meat for later, but of course, he had no knife. He tried using the Deathclaw's claws, but it merely ravaged it into small chunks of bloody mess', though he did cook up some small pieces to eat now rather than later.

The next few hours were uneventful on the south road. Wildlife passed by with wide berths, (the Deathclaw tried to eat them, but Ryder held it back with words… and arms). But it was nothing if not nostalgic for the young man.

He had walked _north_ on this road a while back, and that was with his two remaining family members. His dad talked about how the whole caravan could begin again, he would do the trading, mum would do the talking, and Ryder… Ryder would do the walking.

Ryder was now doing that now, wasn't he? A Courier… a mailman… a runner. Funny how things still happen even if the creators are gone. Ryder wasn't the first to be a Courier like he was the first drug addict in his family. Dad done it in NCR, sister had as well, Venecia, he remembered.

Nothing unique of him, his parents shadow was always larger than him, he might not escape it, may never.

They climbed a steep hill up to the outpost in the south western corner of the Mojave. Two giant statues stood proud, shaking hands. They were in the image of a desert ranger and an NCR ranger and made of rusty metal sheets. The desert ranger wore a cloak and helmet – much like Ryder's own attire – while the NCR was simply a heavily armoured figure with a wide hat.

There was a small plaque with an inscription, but Ryder didn't read it, unimportant, really.

To his left was the headquarters and barracks, troopers lingered around, but paid him no mind. On his right was a large open ended shed, with many a caravan's waiting for clearance into the Mojave. The only way Vees Knees got in was through cover of night, but NCR didn't know that.

He walked by the many Brahmin and people, who gave him threats as to 'keep that thing away from my Brahmin or ill cut your gizzards out!', what were gizzards anyway?

He came across a sleeping woman, black hair, not much in the way of clothing but, still, the leather wrappings covered her enough.

He called a greeting and got the package out, after a moment, she stirred, and turns to him.

Bright blue eyes scanned him all over, her figure was rather… well, let's just say it had a dizzying effect on him, maybe more the Lucy had. Her hair had a strange aura to it, waves of blue shined off of her black hair like some sort of illusion. She stretched out one arm above her head, yawning as she did so.

He arched one eyebrow as she scanned his face. He moved his head to the side, and spoke true.

"Did someone order a… _package_?"

She stretched her back, forward then back, giving him a good view of all of her. She flicks her head to the side, her hair looking weightless as it flew to her other shoulder. Her voice was provocative, seducing, and downright tempting.

"Yes, but," she put two fingers to her lips. "I don't have any… _money_ …"

"Well why the hell did you order a package then?"

"Aww, your no fun, here, two hundred, as agreed."

She hands him a small satchel, he looks in, nods, and pockets it.

He turns, but she clasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Crystal, you didn't tell me your name."

"That's right."

"Playing hard to get huh? No worries, I…" she rubs his shoulder. "... Like it, gets my insides on fire, know what I mean?"

"Sure." He turns again, but she held firm.

"You wanna try this package with me? It's just so _hard_ to open, and I could use a cutey like you."

"Sorry lady, it's getting late and I-"

"Exactly, come rest, you can tell me all about your… _packages_."

Stepping between the two of them, the Deathclaw made its presence clear, and growled. Crystal backed away with huge eyes, and arms raised.

"If you'll excuse us," said Ryder, patting the Deathclaw's head slowly. "I must be going."

Hastily, they entered the barracks for a few things, the last packet of Mentats NCR had (Ryder cursed them for having so little) and a replacement for his eye lens which cost more than the Mentats did. Finally a small combat knife which sometimes slipped in his slightly bigger sheathe, but it was – of course – better than nothing (the worst part was all the paperwork, he must've signed his name a dozen times over).

They backtracked down the hill, but Ryder smiled when he heard Crystals final plea if she would see him again.

 **5**

Once more they camped out on the road, this time between Primm and Nipton ( a small town east of the Mojave Outpost, south of Primm). They ate some cut up Bighorner steak that still sat limp whence they killed them. Ryder was glad for the knife now, and mentally promised himself _not_ to chuck it if he was desperate.

The Deathclaw's sudden sentience finally hit him as it curled up at his feat. He fed it the last two Mentats in the old packet and chucked it to the fire. He chuckled at the thought of being outsmarted by an animal, and knew it to be all too possible.

He laid down on his Courier knapsack and watched the twinkling stars, until sleep overcame him.

 **6**

She watched him, she found him all the more curious, the way his and other humans maw's work. How their tongues click and their lips purse. She quietly practiced this art while he slept, making odd noised for a while, then forming human sounds and words (somewhat like a parrot) with some effort. Without waking him, she dug around his cloak, eventually pulling out a small rectangular thing, its cover was light blue, and it read _The Accent's_ in small black letters. Opening it up, lines upon lines of words met her eyes.

That night, she quietly took all the letters in, and when she grew tired, she carefully placed it back on Ryder's person, and slept.

She had a lot to say.

 **7**

In the morning, the Deathclaw was already awake and shaking Ryder, he looked up at it, petted it, then went to a crouch.

"Quick to grow, aint you?"

As he stood, he noticed it had grown again, now a few inches taller than his knee, and slightly wider as well. He thought that sleeping was its workout, as its muscles seemed ever more toned then yesterday.

Its tail flicked back and forth as he took his banana shaped bag, strapped the one shoulder strap to his left side, and put it to his hip. Each movement made the money inside tinkle quietly.

"Want some more tats? You had two last night but…"

It nodded, pointed to its mouth, then smiled.

"Sheesh, reckon people would turn in their graves if they saw that, all right, here. One for you, two for me."

After that, and some morning leftover cooked steak, they went back north.

Johnson welcomed him with open arms, and gave fifty of the caps back to him, plus some casseroles, which Ryder declined.

"Knew that look in your eyes would pay off, Ryder. Quick work too, I want to-"

The casseroles were chomped out of his hand by the Deathclaw, but she didn't even so much as graze his hand, which they were all glad for.

She scoffed them down, and when she noticed them staring at her, she smiled, bits of casseroles fell out of her maw as she did so.

"Anyway, Ryder, I want to ask you,if you'd like some more Courier work."

"More?"

"Yep, most folks can't even get one package out there without screwing up somewhere. Sleeping with the client, robbed, even running off. But you two, you two could make things right again in this place."

Ryder wanted to decline but stopped himself. It was simple, and he had a _Deathclaw_ to help protect him, a Deathclaw that was growing physically and mentally stronger by the day, aside from the poisonous rounds, of course. And the feeling of the breeze at his back, the serenity of the Mojave roads – since barely anyone walked them – and the quiet yet unique company he had. Maybe…

"Alright Johnson, maybe just one more…"

 **8**

Nineteen Courier jobs later, Ryder and his companion were known all around the western Mojave. Over many days they went from Goodsprings to Primm, to Mojave Outpost and Nipton, and back to Sloan (once, even up to the Great Khans in Red Rock Canyon). NCR orders, presents, gifts and messages, all of it had passed at least Ryder's hands once, and _never_ had he lost a package yet.

The days past, and the Deathclaw grew bigger and bigger and smarter and smarter. It could point, acknowledge, decline, knew when to hold back and attack, even downright _understand_ what Ryder wanted it to do. Or when he talked to it, it would listen, rest a hand on its chin, shrug when it didn't know what to do, but the biggest thing, was it _laughed_ sometimes. Half bark half growl, and somewhat similar to Ryder's own.

It was a simple routine, walk, buy Mentats, walk, rest, more Mentats and so on.

But on one day, Ryder got a superb job with excellent pay. But that was not all, something (almost like a fairy tale) happened… something _magical_ happened.

It was late afternoon, and Ryder held the order in his hands, along with a small white box. Deathclaw on his flank (about belly height to him now), and Johnson in front of him on the main street of Primm.

"No meaning to scare you or anything, but this job has strange written all over it. A chip made of platinum, delivered to a Securitron…"

"Those big blue bots in Vegas?" asked Ryder.

"Yeah, one of them hired five others to do the same. Good money but, think you can handle it?"

"Sure, Freeside?"

"Yeah, it'll be waiting for you at the gate, good luck son."

Ryder nodded, pocketed the package, and the duo left.

Just a few miles away from Sloan, raindrops fell from the sky, first on occasion, then at a heavy constant. Storms were hardly common sights, but it seemed today was… different, somehow. The water irritated him, threatening his valuables and ammo, but the Deathclaw was quite content with the abundance of water, and was dancing and bouncing about, opening its maw to take as much in as possible.

A derailed 'train cart' was off to the side, it was mostly intact, and Ryder hurried his friend along into it. By the time they reached its barren metal interior, Ryder was dripping, but _she_ was soaking.

She shook her body without caring if she soaked _him_ (shaking like a wet dog). He knew when she was messing around, she seemed to take things like this as often as she could.

"C'mon, girl! Now I'm all drenched." he said, playfully.

She jumped on him, knocking him back into the rusty walls, attempting to cuddle him.

"Your too big! Hey!"

She had begun nuzzling his hair again, laying next to him as she did so. Despite her rather annoying closeness, he managed to get reasonably comfortable in her embrace. She turned her sharp claws backwards, so the blunt side caressed his arms, and one of her legs draped over one of his own.

"Awfully huggy today." he commented, to which she smiled a reply.

So they lay there, in one of the most unimaginable positions for a human to do, he was at the complete mercy of her, a simple swipe would knock him dead, and no one would know, not out here. But over the last days, he knew one thing for certain.

She would never harm him.

She was good protection, never complained, never argued, never told him he was dumb or stupid, didn't judge his addiction. She was almost perfect.

 _Almost_ …

"Nice, aint it?"

He was referring to the peaceful drops of rain that pounded the roof, not too hard, not to soft either. The quiet Mojave air needed some noise, and rain was rather fitting.

"Though I hate we can't get going anymore."

Maybe, just maybe, they could enter Vegas and see the lights up close, the feeling of-

" _Get outta heyah! The water is lovely!"_

He whipped his head to the left, and his face met hers, its maw was closing slowly into a pursed smile.

He had heard it, he had heard his family's _New Yawk_ accent for the longest time. And there was only one other person who could have said it… His mouth slowly dropped open, and his shoulders slumped in sudden realisation.

The Deathclaw had spoken.


	6. Chapter 6: Times Up

**Times Up**

 **5**

Nonsense.

…

Utter nonsense.

…

"What is it?" the Deathclaw… asked?

He still held that bewildered face painted on his features. His lower lip wouldn't stop trembling, no matter how much he willed it to stop.

"W-w-w-w-"

"W-w-w-w?" It mimicked, "What's that mean?"

"Y-you-y… Wha-?"

"Hellooo? You got any more of those red things? I might need a few more."

As if under a spell, his right hand reaches into his small knapsack, and takes out a row of _tats_. He held them up in front of his face, and studied them.

"Yep, them. What're they called?"

He darted his face to hers, then the pills, then back to her, he did this in rapid succession, as if someone was slapping his face on either side.

"Can I have some?"

He hands them over like a robot would.

"Thanks, I'll just take one… Ahhh, that's better, I'll put them back for you."

It did. And as it operated the clips and straps as expertly as a _human_ would, Ryder found his words.

"D-Did you just… and your tone is…. and…. was it-"

Well, found his words _somewhat_.

"Your heart is pounding, I can hear it from out here, you alright?"

"I-I've finally gone mad, haven't I?

He laid down in his back and shut his eyes. Maybe it was just a dream, he was sitting down in the Whittaker Farmstead, dozing, yes that was it. Yes, he can already feel his mother brushing his hair back. 'Time to wake up' she was probably saying.

But that wasn't what she was saying. She was saying something else.

"… Something wrong?"

He opened his eyes, yep, still pouring down rain outside, still in the company of a (heart-poundingly _weird_ ) talking… animal… thing.

"Are you…"

"Talking? Yes, I learned from the best. Can I just say something?"

"Uh… yes?"

"Your fur is extraordinarily soft, I hope you don't mind my exploration of it."

She caressed his hair like she had always done, with a deadly yet delicate hand. His hair wasn't too long, nor too short, but this she didn't comment.

"Can I ask you something else?" she said, her face dangerously close to his.

Ryders voice was quite high in pitch. "Okay?"

"What's your name?"

"R-Ryder?"

"Dyrer, it's a pleasure to finally speak to you, I have a lot to talk to you about."

"N-No, _Ry-Der_ , it is."

"Dyrer-"

"Wait, wait."

He took a deep, deep breath before continuing.

"How long have you been able to talk?"

"Just then, it sort of clicked, you know? Like your purse there."

"It's a knapsack."

"Right, same thing, yes?"

"… yeah…"

"Dyrer, can we go see Snuffles on our way to wherever we are going?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Little pink thing, has whiskers, four legs, at that little town further up the road."

"Oh, the Mole Rat, uh, sure."

"Oh, it feels so nice to let it all out. I want to know a few things, if you would hear me?"

" _If_ I would hear you? Fuckin' hell, you're a _talking_ _Deathclaw_ , can- can any of your other kind speak? How _can_ you pull together sentences? How can you.."

She shot them right back, two accents overlapping.

"What's a package? What's that water out there? What's a Mole Rat? What's a sentence?" What's a…"

So for the next hour, she let it all out, and he answered as best he could. To tell how joyous she felt is beyond description. She learnt plenty about her 'human', and what most of the past few weeks events were about. Not to mention who the lovely people in 'Goodsprings' and 'Primm' were.

She took in every word. And let her mouth taste them.

"It feels good to finally talk to you. What are you like?" she suddenly asked.

"I'm… not sure how to answer that."

"Can I see what you've got in those pockets?" she pointed to his cloak.

"Well-"

Too late, she stuck a hand beneath his cloak, and pulled out a pack of smokes.

"What's this?"

"Oi! Don't!"

She dropped it, reached back, took out a can (it was deodorant, pre-war, gift from mother) sprayed it, sniffed, spat, reached back… asked him something about food, change the subject like the snap of fingers. And the rest was fairly self explanatory.

 **4**

The inevitable question eventually came to him as he sat cross-legged from his Deathclaw (who also crossed her legs). She had beckoned her arms, swerved her body about, and talked with amazing grace. She expressed her wonder's through both words and body, all the while her burning eyes never left his foggy ones. It (or _she_ ) was truly amazing, how human-like the _tats_ had made her, she was practically human, If you closed your eyes.

His smile depleted once that _inevitable question_ escaped her lips into his ears.

"How did you find me?"

It hit him, how should he break it to her? Slowly? Bluntly? Maybe a mix? How would she react? A quick swipe of her talons was a most likely answer. So he thought hard about his answer, and when she thought he wouldn't answer, he did.

"I... simply ran into the quarry on pure luck. Thanks for the Radscorpion, by the way."

"No problem, what's a Radscorpion?"

He explained, but then his foolish inner self asked her a painful question, one he had no intention of asking her.

"What happened before I found you?"

She paused before answering.

"I-it's hard to explain. My dad said a Demon had come to kill them, and… and it killed everyone, him and mother. Everyone left or died, I…" she trailed off, and was silent, which was surprising for someone as chatty as her.

"I'm sorry." he said, but for reasons other then what she took it as.

"Y-you didn't see the Demon out here, did you? By luck?"

His tightened his chest, and dropped his eyes.

…

"No."

"I want to find this Demon, I want to… to _rip its spine out, will you help me Dyrer?_ "

His eyes widened. "O-of course."

The atmosphere lightened, and she gripped his hands with both of hers. "Thank you, my friend."

"So, that's what I am to you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I always thought I was some sort of… parent, to you, I know - I know I'm a different species but-"

"Not a parent, no silly, I'm just glad you kept me along."

"Well, you could've caused a little less trouble…"

She did that half laugh, half bark thing that could be excused as a chuckle.

"Did your… parents ever name you?" he asked.

"No, but I have a good one, give me that book of yours, please?"

"Book? I don't have no-"

She took the ( _purse_ ) knapsack and started to rummage around, eventually pulling out the book she had read sneakily on many nights, the one called _The Accent's_.

"Haven't read that one in a while." Ryder chuckled. "Guess it's my first thing to pass down."

She skimmed until reaching around the ending pages, then beckoned a talon at an unseen paragraph.

"There! A girl named 'Grace' I like her a lot, how do you take it, Dyrer?"

After being labelled 'Dyrer' about ten times (and ten times he would correct her to no avail) he had simply gone with it.

"Suits you, the way you move and speak. Good one, Grace, very beautiful."

"Yours is beautiful too, Dyrer."

He smiled, but raised an eyebrow as well. "Thanks?"

Grace gave a toothy smile, and handed him back the book with humanitarian manners. But that was short lived, as she soon took the knapsack back, and pulled out and examined numerous items, such as a pair of bullets and a small handgun Ryder had pocketed a while back, a four-shooter, a 'revolver' as he called it. Another pre-war book, two full packs of Mentats, and a grenade (she didn't call it that). She put _The Accent's_ back and turned the grenade about.

The green 'pineapple' was smaller than her palm, she went to pull the needle, but Ryder stopped her.

"Never touch that, unless you want to throw it and kill someone, please put it back."

"Dyrer, I am so very sorry! Please, I-"

"Relax! It's fine." He gave the back of her horns a scratch. "I…"

He trailed off, she had began making a lowly growl sound, yet it wasn't a threatening growl, no, it was more like that purr she sometimes did, only this one was more like a series of fast beating drums.

"Like that, don't you?"

"…"

"Grace?"

"What? Oh, why did you stop?"

"Sorry."

He went on, she leaned further and further into his touch. She put almost her whole weight against him, and they eventually tumbled over in a heap.

"Sorry." she said with a hint of sadness.

He looked to her, which was to the side, and smiled. "No problem."

"A question."

"Another one? Go on."

"Your skin on your head, it is not the same as your body. Other humans have a lot of skin, but you don't?"

"Oh, no its just armour, look."

He un-straps his right glove, and peeled off the black hand to reveal a much more tender, less rough one. She stared at it in fascination, her snout barely touching the knuckles, she took in the scent.

"Your hand is…" he began scratching her horn backs again, making her stop and purr. "…"

It looked like she had quite suddenly had a heart attack, as if she had died from the sudden contact of his soft – oh so very soft – skin. She went limp next to him, eyes now aimlessly staring upwards.

"Heh, you alright, Grace?"

A dead face of happiness was his reply.

"I suppose that's the secret to befriending a Deathclaw…"

Her tail swished happily behind her, sometimes curling about her leg like a coiled snake. This petting session went on for some time, eventually Grace found _her_ words now, and they simply talked. Talked about...

Well, how their days where, of all things.

Ryder enjoyed her soft, delicate voice as it filled his ears. The accent in particular filled him with wonderful enlightenment. She had no deep roots in _New Yawk_ , yet here it was, an animal, talking, with an accent no less!

It seemed to sing in his mind, each word but lyrics in a chorus. He wondered what his parents would say…

She simply could not get enough of his hand. Each part of his contact ran through her body like electric currents. A trip to Snuffles soon became something on the back of her mind now. That was until…

He did the same with his other hand!

The feeling, the feeling was too much, all strength left her body, and she could barely move her maw in the new way she had quite literally just learned, and hew tongue draped out a second later.

"Stooop…"

But she _really_ meant the opposite.

"I remember now, back in Goodsprings, you had the same exact face. Now I know…"

He moved one hand down her neck, slowly caressing the delicate flesh that hadn't hardened with age yet. And he began to do the thing he had called 'tickling'.

It was great with gloves, but with his skin on hers….

She struggled under invisible restraints, and… passed out.

Ryder frowned when she stopped squirming, but the frown was backed with humour when he saw her chest rising and falling.

"Grace?"

Nothing. Not even when he pushed her side with a hand. He strapped back on his gloves, and simply watched over her, a Deathclaw, who he had _tickled_ to defeat.

He laughed, long time since the last time he did so, he enjoyed it. Thanks to…

A talking Deathclaw.

Those three words stuck in his head like sand in his boots, such a bizarre thing to think about, yet here it was, sitting (lying, more like) right in front of him. An interesting future lay ahead for him, that was for sure.

Eventually her breaths became sharper and shorter, and she sat up on her rear, and turned to him, smiling, of course.

"Oh," said Grace, tilting her head. "why did you stop?"

"Hold on, something's outside."

Behind the pounding of the rain on the roof, Ryder had heard something, something Grace hadn't grasped until she had stood up in one smooth motion, uncrossing her legs with – yep – graceful movements, silent as the wind, she brought her head low, and strained her ears.

Now she heard it, footsteps, one of them heavier than the others.

"Grace-"

"Courier?! You in there?" someone outside yelled.

 _That voice,_ Ryder thought, _who is that?_

He turns to Grace. "Can you, like, smell how many there are?"

"We got you surrounded Courier, come on out, make things easier for both of us!" A new voice yelled over the rain, which had picked up slightly.

"There's… seven of them." she whispered.

" _Seven!_ " he whispered back. "Okay, we-"

Two meaty bullets rang out, slamming against the cart's hull, making loud pinging noises as they ricocheted off into the distance.

"Don't make us come in there!" the first voice said.

"Grace, Where's my helmet?"

"I put it back in the purse."

"Take it and-"

Another pang against the cart. "I won't ask you again, get out now! Hands up, let us see your face!"

"Okay! I'm coming!"

He hunkers, and releases his shotgun, his pistol, knife, and all his ammo, tossing them all out one by one. If he was not at gunpoint, he would have laughed as he looked up at Grace, she had put his knapsack over her shoulder, giving him the illusion of seeing a Sunday shopper.

"Bring it out too! The Package, leave everything else behind, Courier!"

"Grace." he said.

She gave it over, though reluctantly. "You're not serious, are you?"

"They got guns, Grace, I won't let you be shot again, stay here."

"No! They'll hurt you, don't go out there!"

"Grace, it will all work out, I'll give them this thing," he holds up the square pack. "and we'll be on our way."

"… You promise me you'll come back?"

"Only if you promise _not_ to be seen, stay in here. Please?"

"Yes, I will."

"Then I promise too."

"What's the holdup Courier?" came the familiar voice now.

"On my way, don't shoot!" he called back.

Ryder smiles to Grace, and nods. She didn't return it.

"Silent as a baby, alright?"

She looked to her feet.

"Come on, Grace, we'll be eating _tats_ and talking to Snuffles soon enough."

This brought her to a smile, and she met his eyes.

He hugged the cart wall, and slowly shuffled to the square exit way. He extended his arm which held the package out of the doorway, then the rest of his self. His front was pounded with heavy water drops, so much so his eyes were forced into squints to see ahead of him.

"Out here! Away from the cart!"

He went to turn his head back, but stopped himself halfway, he walked forward, arms raised in surrender. He was in the middle of the road when the voice called out for him to stop.

In the looming darkness ahead and behind him. Seven people surrounded him, all of them wore black and blue leather jackets and long jeans. Ryder need not see the skullish logo's on their backs to know these were Great Khans.

Although most of them all wore this similar attire, one of them wore something rather posh. A black and white checkered suit, white undershirt, white pants, neatly laced boots, snake like eyes.

This posh man adjusted his black tie, and pointed at him.

"Take it."

One of the Khans approached him, and his eyes widened in recognition. This Khan's name was Jessup, orange mohawk, thin orange beard, his eyes also widened, but he didn't say anything as he ripped the box from Ryder's hands, and walked to the suited man.

"Thanks. Now, let's walk."

"I'm not going anywhere, I gave you the package, now I-"

"Sorry kid, let's go."

"One thing boss, didn't you say this guy had a Deathclaw as company?" said one of the Khans behind him.

"That's right, tell us kid, where is it?"

Ryder said nothing. Then two arms locked underneath his armpits, and he was forced into a kneel.

"One of you go check the cart."

The Khans shuffled their feet, but no man said no word.

"C'mon, I want this done as soon as possible, and I aint having no 'Claw follow us. Someone better go now, my suits getting pummelled."

Ryder had assumed all were Khans, but the heavy footfalls to his right forced him to look up at the other unique figure that held a long machine gun. It wore power armour, yet this wasn't no Big Bessie.

It was Little Sethy.

No helmet, his freakish face smiled – which looked more like a snarl – and he walked slowly over to the cart.

"There's nothing in there." Ryder said past the rain, though Seth caught on his slight catch in his tone and stopped.

"Nothing? No little friend of yours in here? Where'd it go huh? Ran off?" Seth called back. But when Ryder didn't answer, he whipped out a grenade – same one Ryder had – pulled the pin…

and threw.

It bounced off the wide door rim, hit the inner wall, then nothing.

Then a great fireball erupted, and a second later, the cart was but a charred husk of its former self. There was so much fire that reached up to the skies, it burned his eyes just to look at it.

"Special Purifier 'nade." yelled Seth, picking up all of Ryder's dropped possessions, clipping his machine gun to his back. "Napalm. Beautiful, isn't it?"

" _Your bastard! I'll skin that face and wipe that grin off you motherfucker!"_ cried Ryder, almost freeing himself from the iron grip of the Khans.

"What?" Seth said slyly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Your friend in there the whole while? Forget it, _it's only an animal_."

" _Go to hell, you incestual fuck!"_ Ryder said through gritted teeth.

"I-Incest?" Seth asked, his smile fading.

" _Your big sis Bessie miss your cock yet?"_

"Shut up."

" _Take a look Khans! Your getting orders from a guy fucking his sister!"_

Seth raised his hand, steel like that would do more then give Ryder a red cheek, but he didn't care, he was boiling with unfelt rage, and he knew – as soon as he laid eyes on the siblings – they were damn inbred morons. Holding back now - and avoiding consequences - had left his mind.

The suit stopped Seth with a grip of his arm, and shook his head.

"Come, let's do the walk." said the suited man.

Even as they turned him around and pulled him back down the road, Ryder kept his eyes on the burning wreck behind him. Though she said little in short time, he wanted more, he wanted to protect her, he _had_ to, the poor thing lost its kin to him, and he had promised himself to care for it… to repay for what he had done. He lost Lucy, using him as a sack of worthless meat, he lost his family, he botched his job. And now…

Now he had lost Grace.

All she wanted was to talk.

 _This can't be happening_.

Her last thoughts were probably his promise. How he'd come back, how they'd soon be back on the road before the fire took her, as she peered out of that cart, clutching his bag with hope.

He never registered the drip of water leaving his tattooed eye.

 **3**

She watched the Bad Men and the White One hold her friend down by the arms. She held herself back at her promise, hoping they would release him once they had what they wanted.

But the crazy hot-headed man appeared, he appeared to have gained considerable weight, and his hide had turned to metal. Ryder said something that made 'Seth' turn, and she noticed the small thing in his hand.

The little pineapple, like the one in the bag.

She put two and two together, and with conviction, broke her promise. Her friend may have already lost his, so she raced out the back of the metal cart with her mind behind her.

She circled to the right hastily but quietly. Crouching behind a high pile of dirty grass, peering out to the group of men.

She laid down as the cart erupted into a great bonfire, that soon began to sizzle under the rains fury.

Ryder cried in agony, which made her almost jump out from her cover to help. But there was simply too many of them, and Seth may have more of those balls of fire.

They took him up the road, and she prowled behind them.

 **2**

Ryder stopped struggling a while later, stopped his threats, and soon dropped his head and closed his eyes, both due to the force of the rain, and to hide his grief. The Khans didn't bother with this, and they dragged him across sharp rocks and dents in the ground without care. He felt blood draw beneath his jeans, but didn't care either.

He peered to the left with one half closed eye (which may have been crying, but whether it was simply rain or tears, it was hard to tell) and saw Goodsprings through the white scars the skies dropped down endlessly. Not a soul, all probably hiding cosy under their rooves, safe and sound. He didn't call out, no one would hear him under the wrath of rain.

He closed his eyes, and let himself pass away.

 **1**

He was lying on the ground on his side, his hands were bound by tight rope. He managed to open his eyes, and got to his knees with a grunt of effort.

"… got what you were after, so pay up."

"Your crying in the rain, pally."

"Guess who's waking up over here."

The last voice was to his side, he saw it was Jessup – his would-be friend who always treated he and his mother fair, maybe like a long lost brother would – and he was finishing up his work with a shovel, which he stuck in the ground like a knife to a throat.

Looking up, the first two voices belonged to a dark man wearing a bandana over his head and the suited man (respectively). The suit tried to light a smoke with a shining lighter but failed. He tossed the smoke box aside, and turned to Ryder.

"Time to cash out."

"Will you get it over with?" pressed the bandana man.

Suit took two steps to Ryder, and raised a finger to hush the Khan behind him.

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking em' in the face," his snake eyes leave Ryder's and meet the ones behind him. "but I aint a fink… dig?"

Ryder struggled with his binds, but got nowhere.

The Suit reached into his top pocket, and took out a small poker chip, remarkably shiny as it spun around on his fingertips.

"You've made your last delivery, kid."

"Why?" Ryder barely said to make it audible.

Once more, he reached his top pocket again, this time, replacing the chip with a golden engraved handgun.

"Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."

Jessup on his side flinched when the gun was pulled, but didn't say nothing.

"From where your kneeling," Suit continued. "it must seem like an eighteen carrot run of bad luck."

The barrel was slowly brought down, now pointing right in his eyes.

"Truth is… the book was rigged from the start."

Around him were a dozen Jesus crosses, it seemed they were on a hill, surrounded my makeshift post fences. But Ryder spied two eyes of fire behind the suited man, and knew who it was that was watching.

 _Well… at least I don't have to tell her who the Demon really is._

He would meet his family, and this brought him peace.

A clap of thunder, though it wasn't nature's, rang his ears till he dropped.

 **0**

She saw him see her, and offered a nod of acknowledgement, hoping to calm him.

Ryder gave a thin smile, she was about to return it when…

Thunder struck.

His right eye exploded into a mess of white and red, his other eye rolled back into his head – as if to glimpse the V shaped tattoo before the end – what was left of his face turned into an expression of unbelieving, and he fell, his kneeling knees bent underneath his cloaked form.

" _No!"_

The several armed men turned in her direction. And began raining bullets down at her. She turned, and raced down the hill, guns blazed behind her, rain pelted her head, bullets whizzed past her.

But she didn't stop.

She ran.

She ran so very far away.

Before her eyes watched Ryder fall, her heart was beating with his, she felt his fears, she felt his very soul slip away.

She saw the quarry,

she saw the trees,

she saw the city of Vegas,

she saw no family, not a one.

She saw the loneliness.

Nothing remained.

She was alone once more.


	7. Chapter 7: The Pack

**The Pack**

 **1**

Christianity spread over the old world, even as the threat of nuclear catastrophe loomed overhead, churches and chapels were quickly built, for those who wished to abolish and absolve their sins before death took them in one fiery sweep. The old, the young, the stupid and the smart, all of them praying to some would-be power that would save them from the deathly hands of uranium. But those who begged to the power that created them never truly saw how close they were to the worlds end.

Uranium had two uses, to save, and to kill. Clearly one option was more… _superior_ , then the other.

Perhaps it was best the green ore stayed underground, because now, things other than earths elements linger down below, with their buggy yet human faces and there webbed feet, luminescent eyes that have never seen the sun in there underground lives… One man called them Tunneler's, perhaps the only one to live to see them…

But those things are a story for another time.

Churches rose, churches fell. A lot of people in Vegas (before the world fell, even now) turned to more violent options in order to get by. In panicked states, they burned down homes, shops, broke glass to steal precious commodities, hell, maybe even a cable TV was worth fighting over. The privileged couldn't let go of these old world habits.

There was one grand church that we now look to. East of the not-so-old-world city of Vegas, hidden in the rocky hills and behind blankets of dust. Not too far away from civilization, but for those inhabitants, it was too close for comfort.

The church was one of few not to fall over the decades of death. Its bell tower was used often, but now it seemed still. The grand hall below the tower was like any other, rows upon rows of thick wooden benches, confession booths on one side, grand orange tinted glass that shaped out godly figures on the right, basking half of the hall in dazzling orange light, the other half as dark as night. Even hundreds of years after its construction, it was still in use.

Though, not by humans.

About twenty five odd beings were perched on the benches, atop the booths, or anywhere in between that comforted them. They all looked to the one who stood before the podium in front, whom had left the grand doors slightly open when he entered. He wasn't a good stager, nor one for much talk, but these where his _kin_ , and it was his responsibility to lead them through another hard month of blood and death.

"You all know why I have summoned you here today. For our younger's sakes, hear me."

"We do, Al." most of them murmured, though this was little more than a stock response.

"The Dark Ones are on the way, our scouts have seen the dust quiver to the north, one of us didn't even return when he went too far out. The time is upon us again."

More murmurs, a bit of outrage and dismay, but nothing that was surprise.

"We simply do not have enough to sustain their needs, our younger's are few, and I myself hold three of them. Last time they took seven, that is how many we have now."

One of the grey ones stood up from his perching of the booth. "No! Eight is how many they took! I had one myself, she fought back and died, I remember it well!"

The rest growled approval, yet most of it was disgust rather than anger.

A blue one in the front row turned her head and shouted him down. "Let the Al speak!"

After a pause of silence, Al spoke. "Thank you, Aana, if I would have the attention again."

"You do, Al." the rest of them sighed.

"Seven, eight, nine or ten, it makes no difference. What matters is the now, they will take all our young. _If_ we let them be taken, we will die out, that is the truth."

"What are you suggesting?" called another grey from the front row, not angry, but cautious.

"What we have always failed to do, what the last Al's couldn't do. We _fight_."

A grumble of approval from the Pack, but not enough, not nearly enough.

Another blue, this one near the tinted glass, rose and sang his cries. "What are we to do against them? They count twice our number! We would all die quicker if we resist!"

"The Dark Ones will do so eventually!" someone else called back, though his face was concealed in the crowd, but Al saw who it was from his vantage.

"I read one of the human tomes!" said another blue one, this one was named Zak. "A man sacrificed himself to save all others! His life for all! Shall we not do the same? We put the little ones last days into joy, then put them to sleep. The Dark Ones would leave us well enough alone!"

Low murmurs, reserved, but still there.

Aana in the front row lost all manner of manners, and growled, not bothering to hide it. "You would kill _our_ young? Mine, and all others? You should be ashamed!"

"And they may just kill us if they had no young to take!" cried the concealed one.

"But if they see us childless, they may leave us alone forever!" said Zak.

"Yes, Zak, maybe they will." said Al, making his presence renown to the restless crowd, then after a pause said: "Maybe they won't, would you kill our only young for what _may_ be? Do you have the will to slay them by your own hand?"

Zak, scowling, sat down. Al saw a number of nodding heads, not to mention hearing hisses at Zak's interruptions, that was good, Al needed every edge he could get, Zak was nothing if not determined, as he had always been.

A grey one near the middle stood up and beckoned his claws to the Pack, shortest of all of them, despite his age, but his voice was high. "What if we leave? Go west, just for a little while?"

Aana now. "And what? Let the humans do the job? The Dark Ones are bad, but _they_ will kill us quicker, have you seen those robots they control? Its suicide."

"Precisely!" yelled Zak, but didn't rise up – partly due to the hissing of all around him.

"We are not leaving the grounds, too much threat out there, we hold, we hold our home and kin until we die."

Al regretted that last part, he had grown support, but the death part could have been left out well enough.

"How many of them are there?" called Zak, ignoring the Pack's protests. "They count higher, they're faster, stronger, smarter. But, they don't take _us_ , not all of us, my daughter is right as rain-"

The one on the booth – he was called Yadon – frowned and held back a roar of disapproval. "Yes, _we_ get life while _they_ do not. Bless you in the afterlife, Zak the fool."

Rumbles of approvals rose up, but Al knew Zak wouldn't let up even in the afterlife.

"This is what we do, Al. We do as we always have done. It's been peace, a long time of peace. WE live on, the _Pack_ lives on, our forefathers would not want to see us go and join the dust, would they?"

Small murmurs, some where _We think not_ and _I hear him so_. Not many disagreed with Zak, or his forefather card he played.

"We can't fight them, someone name one thing we can use to fight so many!" he cried to all.

"The Death Bringer!" yelled Yadon. "It killed us from far away long ago!"

"The Bringer lies in the tower," replied Zak, "we cannot climb it nor use it, it is a human weapon! Not for us, never for us!"

At that, most casted their eyes upwards to the high ceiling. A small throat of stone went on higher than the roof, remains of stairs blocked the view to the rusty bell, and the Bringer that laid up there.

"We have nothing, we must not fight, I want this Pack to live for as long as you all do. We _must not fight_."

"We must!" chanted a dozen others.

"We have _nothing!_ What would we do? Trip them over with wires? Scream for them to leave, only for them to return with numbers? We-"

"Shut your piss talk Zak, you should beg forgiveness from D'law."

Everyone turned their maws and peered out to the grand doors behind them. Stood in the rays of light was Dalon, a tall and strange one, yet not those who had come to kill them or take them. He was not born of the Pack, nor a true believer in the Faith, but he often used it to get his point across.

His eyes scanned, but all knew he saw nothing but a blurry version of the planet.

"Brother Dalon, or should I say _outsider_? I am talking-"

"And I don't care, I have brought you all a solution, one that will hold the Dark Ones back forever."

"And what is this?" asked Al from afar.

Dalon gave a smile, and walked to the side of the door. Behind him, a small figure walked forwards.

 **2**

With New Vegas on her left, the Deathclaw dragged her feet solemnly across the open expanse of dirt. Grass tufts passed her sides, all of them alone, just as she was. The rain had cleared up a few hours earlier, but not even that stopped her from walking on away from her friends resting place.

Although rain came in torrential amounts, the suns deadly kiss had swept it all away in little time, not even the sand between her toes was even the slightest bit damp.

She spied a small crack in the earth up ahead, two splintered rocks on the base of a hill, hiding the days burning sun into a small pocket of shadow, she approached sulkily. Slipping into the shady concealment, she rested down her knapsack as a makeshift rest for her head, nuzzling the cloth for a much needed rest she denied her body for so long.

She tried sleeping, couldn't.

She tried getting up, couldn't.

She tried to hold back the tears… she could not.

In the surrounding outside, her sobs filled the desert silence, though the nearby wildlife – scorpions, roaches, mantis' – dared not to investigate, giving the ferocious predator wide berth, though if they wanted to, they could've approached and would not have been noticed by the young Deathclaw.

She pulled out the mask of Ryder, and held it close. She wanted to look through those large red eyes and see her friends grey ones, tell him _not_ to give over the strange package, tell him _not_ to even accept going and delivering it.

Tell him _not_ to do anything.

She remembered them walking up that road to Sloan. Words on the tip of her tongue, now, now she had no one to talk to. She had gone the complete opposite direction to Primm or Goodsprings, although truth be told, her place was not in either of those towns.

"I'll go back. I'll save you and…"

 _You can't go back._ Came a dull voice in her mind.

She knew this to be true, but refused to believe it.

"No, he's…"

 _Gone._

"No…"

 _You saw it with your own eyes, there nothing you can do, is there? It's over, it was over ever since the first word passed your lips._

She couldn't stop herself from giving the voice a piece of mind, the dull drone, the voice, it belonged to Ryder, yet… it wasn't like him, no, he wouldn't talk like that…

"What am I to do?"

 _What would I tell you? Would I want you to sulk in some crevice over a helmet? Surely you can think of something else to do._

The voice was harsher, something Grace could never imagine Ryder sounding like. But still…

"Where am I to go?"

…

The voice was gone.

Grace flipped the helmet over and looked into the interior, what was it the he had said to her? He wanted her to do something…

" _Take it and-"_

And do what? Give it to him? No, that seemed too simple, she looked for anything that could be used, the inner face part was bland, white and worn, she flipped it again so the top faced her, then something caught her eye.

A little stick thing, from a small box on the side.

There were two dials and two small circles made of glass, each positioned at each corner of the tiny box. She turned the top dial in one full circle, nothing. The other – nothing. The top button did nothing either, but the final one did.

It made a small beep, and the buttons lit up to colours, one green, one a blood red.

Hitting the blood red one didn't do nothing, but when she turned the top dial, a small mass of static could be heard near the ear areas of the helmet. But it was too quiet (and slightly too small) for her to press her head into it.

The other dial made it louder now, and the static was in fact broken words.

"… _.ack in…egas we…on the morrow…"_

The red circle was now orange, and the further she turned the dial, orange went to grey, then to green, as she did this, the static died down, and the words were now sentences, voiced by a charismatic man.

"… _Take care on the south road of Sloan. In other news…News! Not much out to the west, towns afflicted by lack of radio signals should be back once the issue in Vegas is resolved."_

She put pressure on the dial, and suddenly the voice switched to one that sounded like an old woman.

" _Ohhhhhh, I'm dying… where is that boy? He'd be getting a clip in his ears when he returns!"_

"What is this thing?" she asked herself.

" _Wha'!? Who's there? Show yourself!"_

Grace's eyes widened. "H-Hello?"

" _Gah!"_ She heard something fall over – glass? – shuffling, footsteps, then the voice sounded much closer.

" _WHY'D YOU DO THAT?"_

"Not so loud, please."

" _You sound a lot different, alright, has he been sleeping with every girl just to get me out of his hair, is he? You got the voi-"_

How did all these little people get in this thing? She flicked the dial again, and again, and again. Each time a new voice came out of the helmet.

" _I was yanking myself when I heard da' come in and *…...* Alright, we wait on the eastern road of Nipton until someone comes across us… what do you mean 'my radio's on?'… what do you mean 'I'm giving away much to precise and potentially valuable information?'… No one's even listening, you stupid cu-*…* Mr. New Vegas here with another….."_

She flicked the green light, and the helmet seemed to turn off, the voices fell silent.

She felt a strange tug on the back of her mind, but ignored it.

Now she needed rest.

Her sleep was filled with nightmares, it felt as if her mind was a rope, and one end was out of her reach. She squirmed and writhed, fighting the temptation to wake herself, but it was all a downhill battle, and she woke in the late afternoon light.

The tug, it pulled her into an upright stance.

Something was outside.

She slowly placed the helmet back in the bag, slung it, and crawled out of the earth's crack. The feeling of being watched crawled on her back. She turned over the rock, nothing. She peered out into the open, nothing.

Holding her breath, she emerged and went into a fighting stance, but something told her nothing was a threat to her - not Ryder's voice, maybe.

Something atop the rocks was moving, too heavy for a rodent, too careful for a scorpion-thing. She smelt the air. And without knowledge, relaxed.

One of her own kind presented itself, perching on the highest rock of the small hill like a gargoyle, yet it seemed to look beyond her, not at her. It was dark skinned, not bluish like her but… not too far off looking like her father.

They said nothing for a while, until the newcomer took one whiff, and jumped down opposite her, he was fairly taller, and looked a bit older than her.

"Is it you?" he asked, almost not believing his own words.

She narrowed her eyes, and took a step back. "Your…"

It approached her, but she did not back off.

"It's been a while, my sister-who-is-not."

"D-Dalon?"

 **3**

Two Bighorner corpses lay strewn in the quarry, two unfortunate souls lost in the grips of the hungry beasts lands. The Al's took chunks twice the size of the adults, and they took twice the size of the younger's, and as expected, the younglings got little to none, they didn't need it, no, the hunters and Al's got the most of it.

Little Grace – or the 'little one' – watched on as her mother and two older brothers tore into the juicy thick hide of the animal, she would wait her turn, yes, but maybe not quietly. She outright complained three times over to her mother, and two times, she ignored her, but on the third…

" _Food, but not for you, little one. We need it more than you do."_

Harsh, but the truth. She wasn't angry, couldn't, not to her little one.

Little Grace sat on her haunches and waited, grinding her teeth.

The Al, and the grownups, left her to the leftovers, not a glance, either way. She scoffed it all down three seconds flat.

Unless she wanted the eyeballs – which she didn't – it was all gone, and still her appetite wasn't sated.

That was until Dalon came up to her side. At first she thought him to tear into anything she had missed on accident, but no. He held a tender piece of meat in one outstretched hand, the corners of his maw curled upwards.

Cautiously, she approached him, and when she was close enough, she snagged it away and ate it down. With dripping fangs, she looked up at him, and gave a smile back.

" _Same time tomorrow."_

She didn't respond in words, but nodded all the same. Her tail flicked happily at the generosity.

The next kill on the next day, one of those Brahmin things. The oldest to youngest had their feasts, and as usual, Grace had next to nothing left for her.

But – on time – when no one was around, Dalon came up behind her, and placed a slab of meat down, slightly bigger than last time.

She ate it, and thanked him.

He never broke his promise, everyday of the kill, he would be there, with extra food for her, no reason, no want of a reward for doing so, he just did it. (He did have a reason, but never told her, no, not yet.)

One day, after her extra treat, he spoke more.

" _Come, this way."_

She followed him up a small incline, passing a giant red beast, and onto a lookout point on the edge of a cliff. On said cliff was a small metal box – a human might call it a cart – it was filled with water. But down below… was the father, _the_ Al.

" _Help me tip this over."_

" _But_ he's _down there!"_

" _Not the metal bit, just the water."_

Two hands on the sides, they pulled it, making it teeter, then slip, though they held back the metal.

It rushed over like a small waterfall, and drenched the alpha to his toes.

" _Arrgghh! Who did that!?"_

" _Now, little one, lets run."_

They did, Grace stole a glance behind them, and the Al was already putting one scary hand over the cliff…

" _In here!"_

He was tucked under another human beast, this one yellow, she dove under it, and joined his laying down side. The Al's great feet passed them slowly, but was oblivious to the two little ones. They exchanged a glance, and couldn't help but laugh, though they stifled it.

" _Who's there?"_ called the Al.

He searched, but never found them.

" _That was great, little one, let's do it again."_

" _Doesn't it hurt him?"_

" _It was only water, and besides, this place could use some livening up."_

She agreed with him on that point.

One day, when they had just pulled off another of their 'pranks', they were climbing the hill to hide under the beast again, a safe house, if you will. But stood before them, quick as ever, was Grace's mother, or the Al. She tapped one foot impatiently, and crossed her arms.

" _What are you two doing?"_

She couldn't think of a response, but didn't need to, Dalon had already begun speaking.

" _We are playing, this is the best spot."_

" _Best spot to hide from your victims, you mean?"_

Grace's eyes widened, but Dalon's narrowed.

" _Apologise, Al, it was my idea, all of it, she had nothing to do with it."_

That was a lie, this last one… it had been Grace who had approached him, not the other way.

" _Is this true, my little one?"_ asked her mother, eyes locked to hers. After silence, Grace said:

" _Please, we were only playing, Dalon is not at fault, we-"_

" _Are these two the troublemakers?"_

They turned, the new voice was of the her father, the other Al. His eyes were so piercing, he looked as if he was sleepwalking. For one horrifying moment, Grace thought her mother would say yes, and Dalon and she would be separated, perhaps punished so, but then mother spoke.

" _No, they were under my watch for a while now."_

" _Well, let me know if you see them, alright you two?"_

They nodded hastily. The father left.

" _Dalon, its best you run off now, don't you think?"_

" _Yes, Al, right away."_ he turns to Grace. _"See you."_

She smiled, and Dalon left, swishing his tail. The mother placed one hand on her shoulder. Grace spoke without turning.

" _Thank you, but why did you do it?"_

The mother knew why Dalon was doing it, and that was the reason, but she would keep her little one in the dark about this, she would need to find it out herself. So she simply told her that she loved her, and pecked her on the head.

This was the day before the Demon came.

 **4**

He told her about what happened afterwards, Dalon was about to cast his eyes to the source of the killing, but the Demon had shot out both his eyes before he ever laid eyes on it. His gelatinous source of sight regrew, but they were but mere husks that made him see nothing but a cold white blur. He managed to escape, with help from a few other survivors, but they all fell into the deep, featureless desert without leadership.

No water, no food, only wounds.

All others were killed. But he left out those details to Grace, he could sense her troubled thoughts, and said no more about it.

"What about you… Grace? What happened? How did you get that name?"

She answered him fully, leaving out no details about any and all things. But what truly got him going was her newfound knowledge, and how she had exceeded at her words, despite her young age. He asked her how she could learn so much on her own.

"These things, we… I, call them _tats._ "

She placed one in his hand, and told him to eat it. He did. And the effect was quite instant. It felt as if he was a well, and the waters of knowledge was filling into his mind.

"This is… truly amazing, how does this work? Where did you get these things?"

"My human friend, he gave them to me, though he didn't tell me how they worked…"

"Human friend? Do tell."

She did, how he had fed her, tended to her, protected her. Until… well, how he fell. But the ways she spoke of him, it was quite inspiring, a _human_ , such an odd thing for Dalon to hear.

"I wish I had met this human. He named you 'Grace', did he?"

"No, no. He had this thing called a _book_."

"Like a tome?"

"Yeah, he said it suited me."

"I know I can't see, but your voice says it all."

"Dalon..." she brought him in for a hug, a certain _human_ gesture, which made Dalon feel odd, but he got used to it, and returned it.

"Your growing, soon you'll be as big as me! Well, maybe not me but…"

She kicked his leg. "You just wait!"

"Why you little…"

He chased her, though they were both laughing all the while. She eluded him due to her size, and eventually he grew tired of running, and hunched over.

"Alright… Grace… I've found a new home… come, let's go."

"Will they accept me?"

"Oh, I'll make them do so, and besides, with those _tats,_ I reckon we won't get enough of you."

The two Deathclaw's – side by side – crossed the desert.

 **5**

"What is this Pack like?" asked Grace.

"We are led by a lone Al, strong and wise, this one. But, it's not as peaceful as our last one, nor is it as simple as youngest to oldest in priority."

"Tell me."

"There are blues and greys. Hide colours, only blue and grey count, as they are the strongest. The Al accepts most outsiders and outcasts, hence the variety. There are four voices of power: Aana, Yadon, Zak, and the Al. Nothing is done unless they all agree, which, up until recently, has been an issue."

"How so?"

"Every month or two, the Dark Ones come. Take our young, maybe kill a few of us, then leave."

"Dark Ones?"

"Red eyes, dark skin, darker than mine. Only those two eyes can be seen if its night, I only ever saw one, it was dead, thank D'law."

"Who?"

"Oh, the Pack lives in this old religious building. I guess its rubbing off on me. D'law is our maker, think of it like, a bigger version of father, or mother, might be both. It sees us to our afterlife, and created us."

She pondered on this… _Deathclaw religion_. Such words wouldn't fit in place in her mind as of now, but in the future, it might. But for now, she only gave it her thoughts. What if she didn't accept it? would she be turned around, left on her own? This may be her only chance at a family again, Dalon was all she had now.

"I can feel your troubled mind, Grace, don't be, I'm with you." Dalon said softly.

"Forgive me, for those who've said that before, all meet a similar fate."

 **6**

Through twisting canyons and rising and falling dunes, they finally reached the grand church, home of the outcasts, home of the victims. They faced the grand doors that were slightly ajar, making the inner talking's present to them. The church was half buried in a rocky mountain, and the whole thing was on the ever so slightest angle.

"That's Zak talking, he's against the fighting, has been for a while. He's just scared, but, I think _we_ can change that, _you_ can change him."

"But, I-"

"Am too young? Are an outsider? So what? You survived the Demon, you've lived on your own, your more intelligent than I."

"I wasn't alone…"

"If I were you, I wouldn't mention him, but those things, those _tats_ , that's your key to this place."

"O-Okay."

"I'll introduce you, you come in after me, alright?"

He closes in to the grand doors that were almost twice his own height, slightly rusted, but maintained, strangely. He pushed both open with a bit too much force, making them slam into the wall either side heavily. He called out with authority.

"Shut your piss talk Zak, you should beg forgiveness from D'law."

(Dalon only heard a little of Zak words, but he just assumed he was talking crap anyway.)

The one named Zak spoke up louder now so Grace could hear him all too well.

"Brother Dalon, or should I say _outsider_? I am talking-"

"And I don't care, I have brought you all a solution, one that will hold the Dark Ones back forever."

"And what is this?" asked on old voice from a ways away.

Dalon stepped aside, and Grace presented herself to the Pack with a pounding heart.

 **7**

Hissing.

A whole lot of it. Though there were a few that did not, it was not nearly enough to relieve Grace one bit. The one at the podium, the Al, tried to hush them. Only after a long minute of hissing did it become lower, to murmurs, then finally silence. All eyes were on her, she did not want to screw up (or be there).

She sought solace in someone's, _anyone's_ eyes. She saw a 'grey' one on top of a booth, not hissing, but still held her at a cold stare.

"Who gave you the right to bring an outsider to our home?!" said the one named Zak. Who got approval from the other greys around him.

 _Leave us_ came to her ears, as did _outcast_ and _feral_ , the words passing the Deathclaw's lips like sighs.

"Silence, Zak. You have no say in whether this new one is welcomed or not!" cried a blue one up front – Aana.

"What does she have to offer?" called the one Grace was looking at, making her doubt herself. She got a small nudge in the side, Dalon, he whispered this to her:

"Go on, the _tats_."

She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She wished to be anywhere else, there was simply too many eyes upon her, the walls were too confiding, the air seemed dull and shallow. She heard her name, realising she wasn't even listening to the passing talk, only grasping the last words spoken to her.

"-fer us?" said the Al.

With a pounding heart, she replied. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't hear you."

A huff from Zak, maybe a stifled laughter from the left row, she felt unusually hot right now. The Al took a breath, and smiled warmly.

"I said, we should see what you have to offer us."

She unclipped her bag and sort through the contents, but rather then placing one hand in, she put her hole head in, burying herself within it.

"G-Grace?" said Dalon.

"Mmm?"

He lowered his voice. "Relax, get the things."

"O-Okay."

She grabbed one set, pulled it out, dropped it, picked it up, and held it on front of her.

"And what is that you hold… little one, or do you have a name?"

"G-Grace."

"Grace, what is it you present to us?"

"Well, th-there called _tats_ , and… and they make you, its - it's hard to explain and-"

"Your all putting her off, we should give her a smaller audience." said Aana.

"Let her speak, if she can't face us all, who is she to take her place with us?" said Zak.

"Perhaps she just needs time, are you normally like this?" said Yadon.

"Hush! We will get nothing if we bicker like this! All apart from the voices, leave." said Al.

"But, Al, we must all-"

"New followers need not _all_ our agreements for a private audience, _Zak_." spat Al. "Everyone dismissed."

Dalon scooted Grace to the side of the grand silver doors with an arm. The Deathclaw's all piled out without a word, yet there scowls, grins, faces of concern and wonder, were enough for Grace to think of words for them.

When all but the four remained inside, she looked to Dalon.

"You coming?"

"No, Grace, I cannot, you'll be on your own."

She took a deep breath, then something unexpected happened, Dalon rubbed the back of her neck with his cheek, and looked deeply into her, if he could.

"You'll be fine."

He left at that. But left her rather paralysed, and in her fixed state, Yadon had to yell out twice for her to shake loose of her invisible bonds.

"Grace? Will you come?"

She almost jumped at the call of her name. "Yes, yes I'm coming."

She turned around, and walked to the podium. Two steps led up to the four, making her look up at them on a large angle. Two on the left – Yadon and Aana – and two to the right – Al and Zak. She saw all others than Zak had looks of curiosity, pity, and judgement, a good thing, maybe? The Al beckoned an arm to her.

"Tell us what you have brought, do not be afraid. Zak does not bite."

Zak scoffed. "Only those who come to harm us."

"Like the Dark Ones…" started Aana.

"That is different! Why now of all of time do we have to fight? We-"

"Stop it, I asked Grace a question, not for you two to start bickering. Now, Grace-"

"What are the Dark Ones? Why do they come here?" she asked outright, but smacked her maw shut almost instantly. She expected anything other than what just happened.

As one, the four voices turned their gazes to the grand orange glass to Grace's right. And again, as one, they spoke, with clarity, conviction, and a bit of fear.

 _Fear the two red twins  
Whose conviction burns like the day  
Whose souls are as dark as night  
There bodies lay strewn through the chomps of teeth_

Once done, they resumed their standard stares at her, as if _she_ were the crazy one.

"What does that all mean?" she asked. "The red twins, who are they?"

"Later. Grace." said Yadon. Grace took out a lone Mentat, and held it out in her palm.

"What is this thing? Poison?" asked Zak, staring daggers at the drug.

"N-No, it helped me… helped me learn what I know now."

"And what is it you know, Grace?" said Yadon.

"That these things… can help me-"

"Find a new family, right?" Al said.

She nods.

The female said, "Just like Dalon, yes? it's a cruel world, but, how does this thing work?"

"Well, Aana… may I call you that?"

"Yes, little one, you may."

"It, it let me speak to my friend-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Zak pressed.

"My friend wasn't… he was a…. a _human_."

She got four immediate responses, each one at the same time, each one making her seem smaller and smaller.

Yadon. "Who was this human?"

Aana. "It's good to see the bonding of a vicious beast and _you_ , Grace."

Zak. "This is what I feared, she isn't right in the head!"

" _Would you three shut up already?_ " … Al.

"Yes, Al." the other three said automatically. But almost instantly after that, the Al gave a warm face like that of a loving father.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have burst out like that, Grace, tell us how these things work. Everyone shut it, so she can speak."

"You just eat them, that's it."

"That's it?" said Aana.

"That's it."

"Truly?" said Yadon.

"Truly."

"I told you it was poison, how can we trust her with these things, how can such a stupid idea be put into reality? You can't just eat something and get more smarter, that's not how it works." Zak said quickly.

"It's 'more smart'." intervened Aana.

"What?"

"Its pronounced ' _more smart'._ "

"Regardless, I thing Grace here should-"

She swallowed the one in her hand, and took out four more.

"Little hesitance. I like that, come then, let us take one each."

"Al, you-" Zak begun.

Too late, Al had swallowed his presented pill in one go. Next was Aana, then Yadon. Zak protested further, but eventually took his own in one swipe.

The fires of their eyes gained more fuel, and each one of them had dropped their maws to the lowest angle possible. In painful realisation, they looked a little bit like Ryder when he had done it.

"This-"

"-is-"

"-so-"

"-GOOD!"

It was Zak who said the last, the others said one word each, Grace gave a small chuckle, but this went unnoticed.

"Alright, have we accepted her yet Al?"

"Yes, Aana, yeeeeesssss."

Clearly it had a different effect on everyone. Grace felt a little bit of familiarity enter her mind's back door, and she steadily grew less and less stressed.

"How many of those do you have?" asked the Al.

"About… fifteen."

The other three were blinking wildly, almost smiling.

"Y, A, Z, give one to the five highest of us, get the lowest ten to start searching the south and east for more of them, remember them well, we need _more_."

Grace handed five over, and the three (probably the most bewildered) raced out the door in a frenzy, almost climbing over one another to escape the church first.

"Come, Grace, follow me." said Al.

 **8**

The back of the church was tucked away by two archways, she and Al walked through them, into utter darkness, though not dark enough for the Deathclaw's, no, they saw quite fine, particularly the younger one. Four rows of carefully preserved books filled the dark room, not packed, but, quite aplenty that would get scholars to turn in their graves.

He led her through two rows to the dark recesses of the back of the _back_ , she could hear low moans and soft whines up ahead. Something Ryder was all too familiar with, she reckoned.

Turning past a shelf, in the corner, surrounded on all sides by two blue's, and cloths that looked similar to human clothes, were seven small babies. Terribly small, about the size of a human palm, all of them crawling, or walking in small circles, two of them were wrestling with their tiny little claws.

"Our young - all that's left." Al said sadly. "The Dark Ones take them, two or three at first, which was so long ago, I was just a youngling myself. But… they demand more and more, and last we had about fourteen, and soon, we may have none."

A gleam of hope entered his eyes, forcing her attention off the little ones that tried to reach out to her from there sitting positions.

"But, there's a weapon, Death Bringer, used by a human that was here before us. Powerful, and you can help us use it."

"How?"

"Convince your human friend, of course. If it would help you, maybe it can help us stop them."

"He's… gone, Al. I watched him as he fell, I didn't do anything, I – I couldn't-"

"Say no more, Grace. If it pains you so, then speak not."

"Nukpana won't tolerate a newcomer, Al." said one of the blue's tending to the younglings.

"Whose Nukpana?" asked Grace after a pause.

"Server of Tarea, leader of the Dark Ones. Nukpana takes the younger's to Tarea and… we never see them again. Huge, terrible, someone with hide thick enough to keep his blood in him, I'm not even sure if its red, maybe as dark as himself."

"When thunders from the north reach our ears, Nukpana draws near. How long did you say they would be, Al?" said the blue.

"A week, at most. Grace, will you-"

"Help? No need to ask, I'll help in any way I can."

And that's what she did. She would scour nearby abandoned human buildings, even drawing near the bright city of Vegas sometimes. Naturally, she felt (and sometimes treated, though not much) left out, but she always had Dalon to look to – his words, actually – for support and company. He hadn't changed much, which suited her fine.

She remembered Ryder's selfless (selfless?) acts she observed in Goodsprings, fighting off those 'Powder Gangers' through clever deception of the enemy. She thought perhaps she could try something similar… maybe. But this Nukpana fellow seemed rather feared, and not one to trifle with.

She hoped wherever Ryder was, looking down at her in the afterlife, he was smiling.

But the only thing looking down on her was the pack of drawing Dark Ones, closer than any realised.


	8. Chapter 8: Gain

**Gain**

 **1**

Six days went by for Grace and her newfound family, and in that time she came to be tolerated as she did her part. She was barely a over two weeks old, and she was rather nervous at first. But Grace was stubborn, and refused to stop, she had certain… _inspirations,_ that gave her the helping hand she needed.

The younglings took an immediate liking to her, perhaps due to her young age, but regardless, she was responsible for finding them food, and caring for them when needed. Which was all the more beneficial to everyone. She tried teaching them to speak (both human and Deathclaw tongues), and surprisingly, met success to a certain level. They'd mimic her words and sounds with small, unpredictable yelps (like parrots). The four voices were impressed, as was Cecile.

Cecile was no Deathclaw, nor was she a human, though at heart she said she was, whatever that meant. She was a levitating, spherical-headed machine with three ocular lenses coming out of its cylindrical head. It surprised Grace at first, a machine, caring for the young, but she proved rather joyful, and _odd_ , but in a good way.

When she asked the robot what exactly she was, it answered her vaguely, saying she was just simply a caretaker for these 'fine gens'.

"Gens? What's that?"

"Sorry, petit, it means 'people', forgive my modules for my ignorance of you."

"It's alright miss…?"

"Designation: Cecile, call me that, darling."

Cecile waved two of her three arms to the cluster of younglings nearby, they were all looking at them with wide eyes, beckoned arms.

"Isn't that right darlings?"

"Cess!" one of them yelped.

"Eee-ly!" another finished.

"Naw, aren't they just the sweetest? And to talk! Such a young age…"

Grace bent down and stroked two of them, they embraced her hand with welcome, making the rest slightly jealous of the lack of attention.

"Race!" the one biting her hand said, not hard, but still, this one was the feistiest of them all.

Twisting her neck around, Grace said, "Why are you taking care of them? And for how long?"

Her bubbly voice seemed to disappear, and in its place came one that seemed rather accusing, as if Grace had tripped a keyword deep in her wires.

"Atomics International protocol, factory 12-NY, it is my duty for my entire existence, 'Care for the young, live by the young', you've been there?"

"Hmm?"

"New York, it's in your voice."

"Oh, well-"

"Grace, come with me, now!"

Cecile twisted two of her eyes back to the archway, there stood Zak in all his tall glory, hunched slightly from a quick run.

"Zak? What's going on?" asked Grace.

"TheDarkOnesareonthewayandIneedyoutogetonthecliffsandwatchthemfromabove! Alright?"

"Uhh…"

"Didn't you get all that, Grace?" commented Cecile, one eye narrowed.

"No time, let's go!" He grabbed her arm forcefully, and she was soon halfway out the door.

"Bye Gracey! Don't forget your handbag!"

It chucked the knapsack, and Grace caught it before she disappeared into the main hall. Naturally, Zak was stronger than her in many ways, she had grown slightly more, in comparison, she was merely at his hip-level, but to a human, she'd be around shoulder height now.

They came forth from the church doors, the pack was scattered, and running about like headless roaches. The only one not moving was Dalon, who waited patiently by the doors, as if not fazed by the confusion and chaos. (Then again he is blind.)

"Zak, wh-"

"You see that path over there?"

She did, one narrow path that opened up to them, due north, about a hundred meters away, between two large mounds of jagged earth.

"Follow Dalon and stay above and out of sight, do _not_ move, do _not_ speak, _do not do anything, understand?_ "

She was taken aback, but responded nonetheless. "Yes, I do."

"Go, quickly!"

She saw Dalon already running, she followed.

 **2**

It had grown silent, no wind, no distant calls of birds, not even the distant lake gave its crashing waves a voice. She hid in wait as ordered, as still as the rock in front of her prone form. It was midday, the sun dominating them with its relentless assaults of heat. Small flying bugs gathered about in front of her face, she tried so desperately to resist the urge to flick them away, and was on the edge of giving in. A hand placed itself on her back, and drew her attention from the path below.

"They're here, Grace. To the left, see them?"

Dalon's heightened perception impressed her greatly, he could hear better than she could see. She extended her neck forwards, peering around the rock face to observe the ancient path the Dark Ones were coming through.

No sign of movement, at least for her.

"Don't let them see you, they'll most certainly take you if they do. Your young, in the prime, I… _we,_ can't lose you."

She took notice of his stutter, but soon it was but a memory, her eyes locked on two small red circles, slowly drawing further along the path. The red pair were side by side and moved in sync, they darted left and right before continuing its ghostly pace to the south.

 _The Red Twins…_ She thought.

On the red twins flanks came two more pairs of red spots, attached to bodies that seemed to be there but, somehow not. As if she were looking _through_ them, not at them. Their bodies were quite literal shadows, dark as… _night_.

The one in front was in fact crouched, yet it seemed as tall as a fully grown Al. It prowled forwards, leading its two slightly smaller – but still unimaginably massive – escorts, each one leading a foot with one long arm like prowling dogs. A small mound of dirt blocked the path like a knuckle, but the three Dark Ones didn't step over it, they _glided_ like passing wind.

Coming on the small entrance on the right of the path, the entry to the church courtyard, was Al and Zak. Aana was back at the church, tending to the younglings, most like. Yadon? She didn't know.

Once the wraiths closed in on them, not too far away, but close enough to bite, they stopped, and were still.

"Nukpana." the Al said slowly, bowing his head low.

The one in front, Nukpana, second to none in the Dark society, cast its deathly hollowed eyes at him, his flanks, the cliffs, then back at Al. It extended its arms out wide, and raised off its haunches to show off its true and terrible form.

It was towering.

Twice the size of her mother or father, thrice the size of Al. Its crimson eyes were dead strong, seeing all, knowing all. It spoke like death itself had taken form, its mouth was like a thin scar as it grinned menacingly.

"My friend, do come closer, it's been too long." Nukpana dragged.

Al slowly walked forwards, into deaths embrace, returning it (though not without internally cringing). To the Al, it was cold, despite the presence of two bodies. One of Nukpana's hands crawled up his back like a spider, each talon like small sharp pinches.

Al shivered, even in the suns blaze.

"Your thoughts, have you consented to us yet?"

With an effort, Al pried away, taking two steps back, he tried to reply, but found nothing.

"Eight, no more… no less."

" _Eight?_ By D'law, that's-"

"It's what?" said Nukpana in his rough, crooning voice. "Answer carefully, Al, fourth of his line, your skin is thick, but I believe it would stretch thin and far."

Al shrunk under the dagger eyes of Nukpana, regretting the use of a raised voice quickly.

"It's… It's too much, we-"

"Shut it for a second. I smell something…" Nukpana said with a dismissive hand, turning around in a full circle, even casting his eyes up at the observing Grace for a second, she quickly ducked back.

"Oh!" Al said quickly. "That would be me, haven't gone to the lake for a while."

"Running, have you?" Nukpana said lowly, little more than a monotone. It was like listening to a lullaby, a very _harsh_ lullaby. "I wonder where…"

Nukpana turned back, sharpening his talons with his teeth, the sound of scraping almost hurt their ears. "No matter, where is Aana, I always look forward to seeing her…"

"She's… she's tending to the young-"

"You said it's too much, hmm?" came Nukpana's husky tone. "How many do you have?"

Aana appeared behind Al, growling low, getting Nukpana's attention.

"Ah, Aana, my love! Come to me, for old time's sake!"

"There's nothing for you here, go back, _now_." Aana said curtly.

"So much fire! I love it…"

He slowly walked forwards, shoving Al and Zak out of his path with quick swipes, he took hold of Aana forcefully, and carried her back to his escorts. Of course, even he had trouble doing so, she was flailing hard, biting, slicing, but he almost knocked her head off with a slash of his deadly hand.

Didn't stop her voice though.

"Get your hands off me!"

He planted her down on her back, pressing one foot to her chest, Al and Zak started forwards, but when Nukpana put a hand up, they didn't take another step.

"If you wish to see her blood, keep coming closer."

"Stop it! Let her go!" yelled Zak.

"Bring your young here then, I'm not going into that dump you call a home. Go then! Both of you!"

"I'm watching Aana. Zak, go get them."

Nukpana pressed down, making crimson spill from Aana's skin, not to mention her screams intensifying.

" _Both_ of you go, or else we-"

"Alright! You win, we'll go, please, don't kill her."

" _Cowards!_ " cried Aana. But this was unrewarded, Zak and Al slowly walked away, leaving Aana alone.

A mistake.

After a minute, Nukpana bent down, and laid slightly above Aana, his form easily masking her to the above Grace and Dalon, but their voices could still be heard.

"What say we pass the time together, my mate?"

"I'm not your mate, your filth doesn't deserve anything more than your own hands."

He bit her hard on the joint between the neck and shoulder, drawing blood and pain, Grace winced, and wanted to do something, _anything_. She quickly went to her bag…

"Just for a minute, love."

" _No! Stop!"_

Nukpana lowered himself, pressing his heavy body onto hers. His escorts had gathered behind him, very close, so as to watch the show.

Grace fumbled with a small device in the bag, and when she pulled it out, her eyes lit up as a plan formed itself in her head.

"Grace," Dalon whispered."did you pick something up?"

"Yeah, and its getting Aana out of there."

She thought hard about the day Ryder was killed, the redhead, Seth, how had he done it? And what did Ryder say? Dangerous, use it if you want to throw it and kill someone…

She tugged on the pin, it didn't come loose.

" _I beg you,_ stop!"

"Quiet down, Aana…"

Pulling harder now, but still it didn't budge, she observed the silver handle, looking like a gun trigger, perhaps…

She clamped it down, nothing! How does this stupid thing…

The pin came loose ( _ **Ting!**_ ), and the smell of fumes was clear in her nose. She stood up, one arm back, one forward, like Seth had done.

It soared through the air, going down, down, down like a comet. So precise in timing and aim, she thought Ryder would be proud. It exploded on impact, it fell onto Nukpana's lower back, and the loudest explosion yet erupted all of their ears.

When she looked back, the aftermath was astounding, Nukpana was now _Nukpana's_ , two halves, both as lifeless as the other, were flailed on the ground a few meters apart, the top half still covering Aana. One of the Dark Ones was but a pile of red and black mush. The other had his leg blown away, roaring in pain.

Grace lunged off the cliff, landing nearby Aana, she was followed by Dalon, and they helped Nukpana off of Aana. Grace forgot about the damage possible to Aana, but worry was short lived, she was unscathed, all apart from the scars the Dark One inflicted.

Aana dusted herself off, Grace turned to Dalon, whose maw looked about ready to hit the ground.

"Grace… you continue to bewilder me. I smell so much Dark blood."

"Consider me amazed as well." said Aana.

Grace smiled. "Did he… you know…"

"Don't worry Grace, I'm fine, I won't say the same for those two when they come back."

" _Fools, you'll all die without us…"_

Aana walked over to the still living Dark One, gave it a curb stomp to the head – the crunching of bones rang out in the quiet air – then crossed her arms.

"It'll live, purely for our gain, I'd kill it otherwise." and at that, she said no more.

Dalon tapped Grace's shoulder, she turned, he was surprisingly close, but she didn't back away.

"You… you killed _two_ Dark Ones… Nukpana included! Your… your…"

"Amazing? I know."

 **3**

"What the hell _happened_?"

Al led Zak and _all_ seven younglings to the path, they watched the scene with looks disgust. Zak held back the curious young ones with his arms, while Al crouched down next to the top half form of the deceased Nukpana.

"Wh…H…H-how is this possible?"

Grace said, "You gave him too much credit, not so scary now he's gone."

"I don't know about that…" murmured Dalon under his breath. "I have a strange thought that he'd probably just come back…"

"You... you _fools_! You've killed us all!" Al practically screamed, now staring into Grace's soul. Dalon got between him and her, but Grace pushed him aside.

"What's your problem?"

"If he's dead, they'll come looking for him, for _us_ , we are as good as dead!"

Aana now, "You… you can't be serious, Al? Did you and Zak _really_ consider handing our young over?"

"…"

"You did, didn't you? I thought we were to _fight,_ not _submit._ You damn cowards, were you going to let him have me as well? If it would save your own skin?"

Silence, uneasy.

She huffed. "And here I thought you had a shred of decency, I'm going home, as are the kids and Grace, at least she has the balls to face the one you would rather kneel before."

"Aana…"

"No, not another word. Let's go."

Grace, Dalon and Aana ushered the children back to the church, the two males stayed behind with drooped heads, after a while, Zak broke the silence between them.

"I thought you two-"

"Not anymore, I guess. Come, enough of this place."

 **4**

They returned, they talked, they made up, though tensions between Aana and Al were still strong. A divide in the four voices wasn't a good sign, never was. But the Pack lived on, Grace was accepted as an equal to almost all, some still – killing Nukpana or no – wouldn't treat her right, mostly strong followers in Zak, but Grace simply ignored them.

Mentats were passed in rations, often one each, sometimes two. But Grace had way more than any of them, and she needn't have so many, instead passing some down to the younglings, who sometimes had none at all. She did take into account the 'overdosing', and made sure none of them snuck any in when she wasn't looking.

As she nestled with a few younglings one day, she was saddened at her action in the canyon, (which was a week ago now) she may have truly sent the Pack to its doom by killing off Nukpana. But what was she have supposed to have done? Let the Dark Ones have Aana _and_ the young? Had saving Aana from humiliation killed more lives than saving hers? Why did she even do it in the first place?

 _Because your different, it's like Goodsprings all over again, isn't it?_

Yes, almost strangely so. Only this time the enemy isn't stupid enough to trust them, nor are they squishy humans.

Grace grew, determined _not_ to lose another family again, nor lose one more friend.

….

….

But she didn't lose a friend, did she?

Far away, back to the west, on top of a hill in a cemetery, underneath a Jesus cross. A metal hand dug away in a fresh grave. In this grave, a heart still beat, a heart still filled with determination, a soul that would take revenge on those who did it wrong.

No matter how long it would take.


	9. Chapter 9: Reawakening

**Reawakening**

 **1**

White.

…

A grand hall of nothingness.

Two boots clicked on the ground, echoing forever and ever and ever, never seeming to go away. He squatted. Eyes on his worn boots. He placed his hands on the ground. Marble, but he didn't know how he knew that. He rubbed his fingertips back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on the ground until his hands went red with blood.

His bones vomited from the skin there, crude, odd, painful. He went to feel one, but only scraped bone against bone, bone against bone, bone against bone. They turned to powder, to dust, to nothing, residue sailed gracefully to the ground, and was camouflaged from his eyes on the cold floor. He searched for it hard… with narrowed eyes, careful eyes, hurting eyes.

There was a pop. Then,

 _ **SLK**_

Half of reality slipped away, on the ground was a small spherical blob of flesh. Wholly white, with little red veins, a tiny black dot on its back. It turned on the spot, _looking_ up at him. A grey iris, a black pupil, a cold stare.

No, he couldn't lose that, he reached out to it. But just before his fingerless hand touched it, it exploded, shot, dead. Flesh covered his remaining eye, and cheeks, and body. Squishy.

"Ryder." a voice echoed. ( _yder... yder… yder….)_

On his left.

"You disgust me, a thing like that, how _dare_ you?"

"My whole life I just wanted to live up to you, I should have stopped long ago."

The shadow-man, wearing a wide hate and a poncho, shook its head in disappointment - but also sorrow - and was gone.

"Ryder."

The right.

"I told you, a _woman_ , not whatever _that_ is, is what you tell me true?"

"Yes, I can love whoever I want, not who _you_ think I should."

The shadow-woman wearing a heavy duster was gone.

He stood up, walked forwards, on and on and on. A rattling sound came from below his foot, he looked. A small packet of red pills, chalky. He picked them up, fumbling with no fingers, couldn't do it, gave up, almost cried out his remaining eye.

The shadow people came back, stood over him, one in disgust, one in pity.

"Redeem yourself, God will forgive you." said mother.

"Give them up, son, or do you not have the will to let go?" said father.

"I _can_ let go."

"Then let go." they said in sync, in sorrow, in power, making him feel smaller and smaller and smaller.

But could he let go? Yes? No?

They were gone, the pills, the shadows, the whole ordeal. Gone.

 _Fear the Red Twins…_

A source-less voice, no, _voices_ , four of them. Up ahead, front, forward, he went, to no avail, found nothing, found everything.

His own self, his _dead_ body, on the ground face first, he turned it over, and saw his eye was back, but, not an eye….

He didn't know what to call it, didn't matter, really, nothing did here.

But what was 'here' anyway? Was this death? Was this the after-world? Or was it a message? If this was, then what is what?

What.

A single word to mean a thousand others.

 _ **SHK…. SHK…. SHK…. SHK**_

Now, a blue robot, large, sitting on a wheel with a titanium chassis, was digging away at the marble with one of its long tube arms, three metal finger plates chucked a piece away every few seconds. He approached.

A small TV screen in its centre showed a picture of a hat wearing cowboy. "Howdy pardner!" it said, smiling. "Up and at em', you got a road to walk!"

So he did, so he did… So. He. Did.

Past that robot, it seemed to grow darker, duller, danker. The end? Yes, this place had enough of him, and him - it.

The whiteness he walked on was a bridge, a highway, a road of death, and the destination? Twas a dead end, no escape, no alternate, luck ran dry like water before the sun.

He stopped, legs slightly wide, arms crossed, cloak flickering off to the left from the northern winds, eyes facing west. Oh how familiar this feeling was…

Ahead of him, an Alpha Female stood, one arm behind her, one arm opened forwards, as if offering him something. This one was slightly short, for a Deathclaw, young? Different? Familiar? He walked until he was a only a meter away from it.

"Here." it said… _Grace said… your friend said… your stolen property said…_

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't (never could, not anymore) see what she was giving him.

"W-What?" I asked… _Ryder asked… the killer asked… the Demon asked…._

She threw it down, it smashed like broken pottery, loud, deafening, paining.

His soul, his heart, gone, empty, nothing, nothingness like this hall of white, he couldn't breathe, he clutched his chest like an old man having a heart attack, gasped, fell.

Don't worry, Grace will help, always has, always will.

…

"Not this time." she said to his thoughts, turning her back on him, her tail nearly decapitating him as it swung with rage as she went away.

" _Where are you going? No! Please! Don't walk away from me!_ "

She turned, those eyes - those fire pits - saw him in a different perspective, never again would she look at him like she had when he found her at the quarry. She slowly said:

" _Go. To. Hell."_

Drilling, cracked skull, broken heart, fire, pain, red, teeth, twins, Death Bringer, CJ's, army, unity, fire, poison, machine, death, family… broken.

He woke.

 **2**

On a bed, looking up to a three bladed fan that turned slowly about through blurred vision, sending chills through him, he lay. The bright roof lights blinded him painfully. He rolled to the left side, making his head spin. He planted his feet down on wooden floorboards and groaned.

"Easy there. You been out about a week now." came an old friendly voice.

He clenched his eyes until the pain subsided, his voice was at first nothing but odd cruel rasps, almost like chokes. But after a few attempts, those rasps became hoarse words, weak, but there.

"A week?"

"Relax a second, get your bearings."

"… Mitchell?"

"Well, at least your memories weren't shot out. Remember _your_ name?"

"Ryder. W-Where am I?"

"In Goodsprings. I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around in your head there to pull all the bits of lead out-"

His head felt on fire, _clearly…_

"-I take pride in my needlework, but, I don't want you to be alarmed or anything, but I need you to _not_ freak out, okay?"

"Why?"

"See for yourself."

Mitchell was on a small seat beside the bed, at his feet was a small device with the word 'RobCo' above a small reflective screen. He handed it to him with care, but Ryder wasn't sure why.

Until…

Up came his face staring back at him, slightly dirty hair – maybe a bit worse for wear – but that was all that he saw was wrong. What was strange was that he couldn't quite see the whole screen, until he turned his head to the right slightly.

A white bandage covered his right eye, his heart started building up. He went to touch it, but Mitchell put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I should warn you-"

"Let me see."

"Alright, let me undo it."

Mitchell undid his work without a word, Ryder waited, fearing something he hadn't seen yet, but knew, knew what he'd see.

The cloth left him, and he saw his reflection. A hollow spot, like a cave mouth, was all that remained of where his right eye should be.

"No… no no no no no."

"Hey! Take it-"

The shock finally caught up to him, the vision impairment on his right became annoying and irritating, he tried to open his useless eyelid, felt it, but it didn't make a difference (it looked like a tiny mouth without a voice), heaving breaths, he dropped the reflector, unable to bare seeing his face like that.

"Slow down, Ryder. You'll make it worse."

"Who the hell did this?"

"Slow-"

"No! Tell me now!"

"I'll tell you all I know, but you gotta take it down a notch."

He couldn't, Ryder's teeth went cold, his head went heavy, and he lost consciousness.

…

A few hours passed, he woke, this time in control. The white cloth went back on, and Ryder was allowed to leave the bed if he could handle it. Ryder said he could.

Firmly planting his feet down, Ryder got to his height, draping one arm on the Doc for support. His knees felt like gel, weak, tender. And he lost his footing several times, eventually falling on his back. But Ryder said nothing, instead, he propped up a knee, and kept on trying. And try he did, as he soon was able to make his own without support.

"Can you walk with me to the next room?"

A few minutes, and Ryder got to the living room, two couches opposed each other, he sat down on one while Mitchell took the other, Ryder sunk into it, taking a few moments to get his breathing back to normal.

"Thought you'd be in Primm, Doc." Ryder said.

"Get my supplies there, heard about your little tussle with the Powder Gangers here, you have my thanks. People have been asking if your awake, I haven't told them yet."

"Thanks, heads killing me."

"I know you want to get out there, but, I need to make sure your alright, hopefully that bullet didn't chew up _everything_ in there, okay?"

"I need to find those men who shot me."

"Soon, just hear me out."

One hour, one hour of questioning, studying, and small exercises. Ryder's body was slightly smaller, and was told to eat more for a while, but when it came to the brain, Ryder wasn't surprised about his results about his intellect.

"Sorry, son. I fixed your head as best I knew how, I guess I missed a spot."

"I've always been like that."

"You an addict?"

"No." Ryder shot, but saw the Doc's concerned face. "… yeah, Mentats."

"I'd fix that for you, but I don't have the equipment, plus - I don't think you could pay for it."

Ryder noticed he was wearing only his worn jeans, Mitchell answered his unasked question a second later.

"Don't worry, your armour's safe, as is your weapons, though I saw no money on you, guess they just wanted caps rather than guns."

"No, that's not what they were after. I was… carrying something else…"

"What?"

"I… I can't remember…"

"Don't worry, it'll come back, as does all things. Even brains, apparently… Alright, last test, okay? I'll let you go after this one. All you need to do is say the first thing that comes to your head when I say a word, alright?"

"Okay."

"Companion."

"… Deathclaw?"

No time to ask, the Doc went on.

"House."

"… Home."

"Night."

"… Death."

"Enemy."

"… Kill."

"Light."

"… End."

"Father."

He took longer on this one.

"… Distant."

"Last one. Grace."

Almost instantly, he said, "What?"

"Grace."

"I… that's… familiar."

"How so?"

"A friend, I think."

"Most likely that Deathclaw you befriended."

"I did what? No, wait… yes, I know it, it was… it was…"

Mitchell waited patiently, soon Ryder found his words and spoke excitedly.

"Very… talkative, yes! She talked, in the storm! Don't look at me like that, she did, I know she did!"

"That might just be the _lead_ talking, friend."

"Your… your wrong! I know she did! Just before I… she…"

A cloud entered his mind, hurt like a hot knife, he groaned in pain but suppressed it heavily.

"Are we done? Where did the men go?"

"I believe so and I don't know. You were brought to me by Victor, big robot from Vegas, dug you up, apparently. Ask him about those men, I didn't catch a look at them."

They went to collect Ryder's gear, the armour had been cleaned, the guns refitted and oiled, even the ammo was still good. Thankfully Ryder didn't keep all his caps in his coat, he liked to hide them around him. His boots, under his belt, even in his helmet…

"You seen my helmet?"

"No, this is all that was with you, maybe they took it?"

Ryder swore he had an extra bag, one with the Mentats he so desperately needed right now. But no, they were gone, and Mitchell had none either. He gave him some stim's, cloth for his eye in case of replacement, and a bottle of water, plus a free meal, Ryder couldn't thank him enough.

"Say no more, you saved our little town, it's the least I could do. But here, if you're going out there, you'll need a map. Take this, it's called a Pip-Boy, old model, got all of the Mojave down on it, I'll put it on for you."

On his left arm (of course) went the small wrist computer, no bigger than the length of his fingers. Two buttons were below the orange-tinted map screen: MAP and RADIO.

Ryder strapped his guns to himself (Shotgun, small magnum, knife) and was soon out the door into blinding light. The sun directly over Black Mountain to the east kissed him good afternoon into his remaining eye.

The steps leading out of Mitchells house were difficult, coordinating each foot was easier said than done.

 _Just taking it all for granted_ , he thought as he remembered seeing a lot more before today, _now I'm fucked._

On the last step of the slowly declining hill, he did it, he lost balance after going so well, but before the ground met him, two cold metal arms caught his shoulders and hoisted him up.

"Thanks-"

His saviour was a giant blue robot that bounced on a lone wheel, something very familiar to him, had he seen it before?

"Howdy, pardner! Might I say, you're looking fit as a fiddle."

Ryder brushed himself off and said, "That's one weird-ass fiddle your thinking about. You the guy who dug me up?"

"That's right, always willing to lend a hand to a friend in need.-" The cowboy between the two massive cubed-shaped shoulders said without moving his still face on the computer screen. "-Yup, just strolling around when I saw commotion up at the bone orchard so I laid low. They started shooting at something then ran off after tossing you a mouthful of dirt. I dug you up and there I saw, your still kicking!"

"Walk with me, will ya?"

"Sure thing, friend!"

The turned onto the main street, slowly making their way down to the saloon, this thing, Victor, was a Securitron from Vegas, been in town for fifteen years, but strangely, Ryder hadn't seen him, and neither did Victor, maybe someone mentioned him before he was shot?

"You ever see my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy." the robot said, turning on its wheel.

"Where are you going?"

"To lay down for a bit, happy trails!"

They were outside the saloon when Victor abruptly left him, going back down the way they came. Ryder was confused (a robot laying down?), but soon thought nothing much of it.

"You got rid of your little beast friend did ya?" asked an old man wearing a straw hat, sitting in a rocking chair on the saloon porch.

"Easy Pete?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. I had enough of your stupid face already."

Next to him sat an old woman… Trudy, that was it. She was knitting a small green and yellow cloth, and gave Ryder a smile, and Pete a scowl.

"Give him a break, he's been shot in the head."

"Uh-huh, damn city folk and there chequered suits and power armours, didn't kill ya, thick skull, most like."

"Pete!"

"What?"

"You just called our town saviour thick-skulled!"

"I don't mind," Ryder interrupted. "You guys see where they went?"

"Yeah, I saw them." said Trudy, "Came for a drink during the storm, actually, one of them was all armoured up, Purifier, I think, said something about Primm, and a talking animal, but that's all I heard. Care for a cold one, Ryder?"

"Actually, I want to see the cemetery again."

"Alright then, be careful out there."

He had a sour thought to say _obviously,_ but decided against it.

He ascended to the 'bone orchard' as Victor put it, but with every step came a bit more dread and pain, memories came back to him, painful ones, and he hated the cemetery the more he closed in on the hilltop.

Graves dotted randomly around the orchard, as did a few flowers and rotten Jesus crosses. One at the far end had a big pile of dirt, freshly dug up next to it, he went to it.

Standing out from the bland dirt, a pack of cigarettes laid near the grave ( _not even enough courtesy to mark my name down on the cross,_ he thought as he passed it), he picked it up and held it to his left eye. An odd brand marked a half-naked woman on the side, the cardboard nearly crumpled under his touch, the smokes inside were still fresh, possibly still able to work. He pocketed it, maybe someone could tell him about them.

He peered behind his back, a short woman - donned in leather armour - stood nearby, rifle raised up above her, resting on her shoulder. Behind her a dog growled, but she held a hand back to it.

"Cheyenne stay, don't worry, she won't bite, unless I tell her to."

Cheyenne backed down.

"You the guy they shot up here?"

He nodded, still not turning.

"Sunny Smiles."

"Well, I don't feel like smiling right now so..."

"No, that's my name."

"Oh."

"I know about you, Ryder, saving the town a while back, I saw you around, but we haven't spoken."

"I regret it. Something you need?"

"I know you want to get out there, find those men and that Purifier, but, I want to help."

"Purifier? Yes, S-Seth… he-"

He stopped, Seth had thrown a bomb, a great fireball erupted, and killed someone. Off on the road…

Ryder jumped the surrounding fence and raced down the hill.

"Hey!" came Sunny's voice behind him. "What're you doing?!"

But he just kept running. Passing hills and rocky terrain (falling once or twice) until he at last emerged onto a broken road, with a railway track to accompany it. The _cart_ , something to do with the _cart_.

He eventually came upon a burned wreck of a train cart, its fire had died down long ago, but it was still coated with a dark shade of black, the metal was mangled, its sides dotted bullet holes. He was here, and so was _she…_

Then it came back to him. Grace, she was in it, she burned with it, she…

Seth.

He clenched his fists.

Sunny and Cheyenne came up to his side, she huffed, and asked him why he had ran off like that, but he ignored her question, and filled his voice with shimmering rage.

"I'm going to kill them, every -last - one."

"What?"

"They killed her, the… the Deathclaw…"

"Your Deathclaw was killed?"

"Got burned to death in there."

"What did you call it?"

"Was a she, named Grace. Bastards will pay."

"Ryder, you don't know a thing about these guys. They got power armour, guns, napalm, poison, and practically an army, hidden somewhere where no one knows."

Whipping his head to her, Ryder said, "Then I'll get an army of my own! I'll find these people, and burn down there program from the ground up."

"And how are you going to get an army to take them on?"

"Simple, I already have you guys, right?"

"Sure, I mean, I'll be glad to see them gone but, a quiet town like us is no army, barely earning the name of militia, you'll only get us all killed."

"Then I'll get others!"

"Who? NCR? Legion? They won't help unless the other one is dead."

"Then everyone else apart from them. Everyone they've done wrong, that should be enough."

"Let's go back to town, think this over."

"I've already made up my mind."

He picked over the cart, and found nothing, good. Yet, that was horrible, was Grace alive? Surely her corpse would be here… but it wasn't, just bland nothingness. He couldn't decide whether she was alive or not, but, his mind would click, some otherworldly force kept telling him she was alive, but he would always have a sliver of doubt.

 **3**

They went back and behind the saloon. On a nearby fence sat six bottles of sarsaparilla – an old popular pre-war beverage – about ten meters away. Sunny handed him a rifle (she didn't want him using the shotgun, spread reasons) and told him to take them all down.

He loaded a shell into the chamber, smacked back the bolt impatiently, and lined his sights with the left most bottle with his – non dominant – eye.

He fired, the shot rang out.

It wasn't meaty, not powerful, the piece of shit hit the hill mound behind the bottles harmlessly .

He pulled back the bolt. Slapped anther round in. Brought the hammer down again and…

Miss.

Again.

Miss.

He walked a few paces forward and tried again. The dirt mound made a small puff, the bottles teetered, but didn't break. He was about two meters away from the fence when he roughly loaded the gun back for the last time.

Aiming…

… firing.

' _ **PF'**_ went the dust.

"Piece of-" He gripped the barrel with both hands, brought the butt high above his head, then let it fly down like a woodsman with an axe. The wood post snapped in two with a loud crack, sending splinters off to the sides. The bottles hit the ground, but, again, didn't break.

"Well," said Sunny behind him with a hint of a smirk. "if you want to smash their heads in, your good to go."

"Fuck this." He throws the excuse of a gun aside. "Fuck all this." Ryder said, like a kid doing a tantrum, he covered a hand over his missing eye, closed his other, and held back breaking down on the spot. He felt so pathetic right now, unable to hit a fucking bottle from a meter away, and his grand scheme of taking down the Purifiers, it all seemed too much, too heavy.

Not to mention the memories of the little Grace came back, the kind, friendly, cuddly Deathclaw, who – because of him – had only Ryder as family, she was probably out there, cold, hungry, lonely… all his fault… _all my fault_.

"You have to slow down, you can't just get up and start shooting straight without an eye."

"What am I to do? Sit here and do _nothing_? No. I have to find these men _now_."

"Not with that attitude, you're not."

He wanted to fight that, but, a little voice told him that it was true. He gave it more and more mind.

"Look, come back here, try again."

He did.

"Your aiming it like you would with your right eye. Your guns far too off-sided, hold it up again… Now tilt your head right, line your left up with the sight… there you go. Now, again."

Being one half blind, peripheral vision was almost nonexistent for the young man. When aiming, he'd not see anything but his target, this – Sunny said – was good, keeps your focus on whatever you want to kill. But that wasn't saying to simply ignore everything else, no.

It was downright depressing for the next few days. He'd be with Sunny and no one else, hand-eye was terrible, he could barely land a single blow in a fist fight, let alone load a gun without fumbling a shell, though he fixed that up fairly quickly.

Sunny didn't hold nothing back either – apart from his eye area – she'd smack him down and he'd keep getting back up. Even as she made his mouth draw blood, and knocked him to the ground with a smack of her foot, he'd say nothing, simply get up for another round.

"Your stubborn, don't know when to quit, I think-"

He gave her chin a run for its money, she almost toppled over in amazement.

A day for fights, a day for exercise, a day for learning all the in-betweens. He couldn't go out there looking like _that_ , could he? Barely an inch from looking like a corpse, Sunny described to him.

In the saloon, they shared a drink (not booze, despite Ryder's protests) Ryder asked her the big question/questions.

"We been at this for what? Five days?"

"How observant of you." Sunny said on the stool next to his.

"Well, why do you even do it? Why waste your time on me? You practically hate my idea of taking on the Purifiers. Surely helping a recently deceased guy like me is getting boring."

"I don't _practically_ hate your ideas, I _do_ hate them, I think there stupid, and the thought of gathering an army is putting me off a lot."

"So why help me?"

She shrugged. "I got nothing better to do."

"Wow, way to break it down to me."

"You asked. And besides, you haven't complained, well, not out loud."

"Beauty and brawl, I wouldn't mess with it."

"I'll drink to that."

They did, and two days later, Ryder had had enough, and wanted to get out there sooner rather than later.

 **4**

He bid his farewells to the townsfolk, even Pete (Good riddance, he said), Trudy told him If he ever wanted a bottle or a gun, then he best come back real quick. Goodsprings was a start, Ryder just needed time.

"Can I still not convince you to let go of this 'army' talk?" asked Sunny, alone with Ryder on the outskirts of town, on the beginning of his path.

"I bet fifty caps that I get one glorious battalion to settle this debate."

"You're on."

In the distance, Primm beamed, almost telling him to _go on, begin again and find the ones who did you wrong._

"Ryder," Sunny said with a hint of desire and shyness. "Maybe you could… I don't know, stay here? I've had a lot of fun with you around, you helped spice up my life these last few days. Surely a few more couldn't hurt?"

Ryder looked to her, then back at the waiting Primm. It tempted him, he could simply stay, he knew full well what Sunny meant. She was cute, young, and he did like her in _that_ way. He could simply turn back, say yes, let it all go. Prove them wrong that he was no death seeker. End the journey before it even began.

 _Let go…_

Let the fate of Grace go its course, let the backstabbing Khans get away, let the Purifiers hunt down his friend unchallenged.

 _Let go…_

He touched her arm with his hand, holding it there.

"Sunny, I have to do this. I can't let them go. Not without knowing the why of it. There's simply too many questions in my head… I couldn't live not knowing about my friends fate."

She smiled. "I understand, I'd be pretty steamed if someone shot me in the head. Will you… come back?"

"With an army? Of course!"

"I don't mean… never mind… Good luck out there."

She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and before he even realised what she had done, Sunny was already halfway into town. Ryder turned away, and took his first steps of the long road, a road that would lead him to places he never dreamed of, where no sane person would go, where his family had and hadn't gone. It would be filled with peril, no doubt death would come back for a second chance at taking him. And he'd struggle throughout, mentally and physically pushing himself on and on until he got what he wanted.

Though deep down, revenge was blinding his heart from what he truly wanted from life. He couldn't remember the last time he simply… _socialised_ like he had on that cart. To talk about his day! He never remembered saying anything like that before, Deathclaw or no.

As simple as talking got Ryder's heart pumping in way like never before.

But now, now it was drowned out with ill conceived revenge. Seth… Bessie… the redheaded Khan (Jessup), they would all pay. They simply thought of him as he had himself for his whole life.

He wasn't the brightest man in the wastes, far from it, really, but still, he didn't mind, for he told himself the first thing he had said in the quarry.

"I'll be right."

He walked on.

 **5**

The Nash's were like old grandparents, giving him hugs and casseroles for such a long time without word. "I was shot." he told them, making their eyes go wide with fright. Although he told them not to serve up the Radscorpion roles, they did anyway, and he mentally told himself to not chuck them away.

Unlike Sunny, they were quite encouraging of the idea of taking down the Purifiers, they did, after all, try to kill the finest courier they had ever seen. Johnson would talk to the folk, try and round up some friends. While Ruby would promise many casseroles… and medicines, which was important.

 _This is all too easy_ , Ryder thought, _soon the whole Mojave will be on my side._

They told him of a chequered suited man passing through, they were (according to the now dismissed sheriff, who was more than happy to give Nash intel on the group of Khans) heading for Novac to meet a contact after spending a day in the hotel.

"Was there another man with them? Not a Khan - red hair, creepy smile, wearing power armour?"

"Nope, no one like that, sorry."

The sheriff, of course, was lying, but Ryder – without his drugs to give him a hand – let him go. This was the first of his problems, lack of _tats_. He had done stupid things in his life, but, without them, it was all downhill. Primm didn't have a single one to sell, so Ryder was at a loss, he would just have to hold on for a little longer.

He told them how they stole nothing apart from the package. Johnson said the contents was nothing but a small poker chip, nothing to serious. Only it had strange written all over, each courier on the same job had something a little different, and they all made it to Vegas apart from Ryder. Someone else turned down the job while Ryder was out doing other work, despite the good money.

"He got this weird look when he saw your name on the list. He turned it down after that, he said 'let Ryder carry the package' and left."

"Maybe I know him from somewhere, where did he go?"

"Just gone, hope the Divide storms skin him alive."

"I better get moving if I want to catch them, so long, Nash's."

Hours later (after eating and leaving, he took short rests, quick walks, pushing his body to the edge), the Mojave Outpost was high on his right, the two statues still in the infinite pose of agreement. Ryder pondered on whether to go up there and try his luck, but thought better of it. NCR wouldn't help, and he sure as hell didn't want it. As he walked down the eastern road to Nipton, Outpost at his back, wind in his hair, he wondered at how he would learn anything about these Purifiers. Where are they hiding? Who would know such a thing? How many are needed to take them down?

 _More than Primm and Goodsprings, but I shouldn't worry about that now._

To the east, four smoke clouds trailed the sky, there sources all from the tiny town of Nipton, which seemed rather barren and dead, even at this distance. Ryder picked up the pace slightly, passing the two sandy fields on his sides, ignoring the critters that inhabited them. He briskly climbed the hill, and was soon at the edge of town.

Each house looked like explosions had gone off inside them. No bit of wood wasn't charred with burns or bullets. A great bonfire of tires and bodies smoked the skies in front of a hastily made barricade, with two flags beared on them.

Flags of bulls, red and yellow.

Legion.

Suddenly a man ran up to him, Ryder hadn't noticed the spectacled man sitting nearby until he threw his arms up and practically yelled with excitement at the dazed Ryder.

"Yeeeah! Who won the lottery? I DID!"

He turned around, the letters NCRCF lined the mid-back of his blue shirt.

"You a Powder Ganger?" Ryder asked, but was ignored.

"Smell that air! Couldn't ya just drink it like booze!" the man laughed crazily.

"What happened here?"

"What happened? The lottery happened, that's what. You're looking at the motherfucking WINNER! YEAH!"

The man fist-bumped the air – yelling 'POW!' – and walked back the way Ryder came.

"Wait!" he called. "Where are you going?"

"LO-TER-RY!" he called back, flailing his arms.

Into the sunset, the Powder Ganger ran, Ryder admired the gracefulness of the crazy man, some people are worse of then him, he guessed.

"Wonder where he will go…"

A giant fire ant lunged at the man's flank off the side of the tattered road. Ryder heard him – "GAH!" – and internally rooted for the man to get away. Soon the ant and man were but specks in the distance, Ryder shook his head.

" _He'll_ be right."

Shotgun at the ready, he walked into town. To the left of the road were two pikes painted with blood, at their peaks were severed heads, two men's gaping faces, faces that said _Hey! Come here often?_ He felt those lifeless eyes on his back when he walked past them to the main street.

He was at the main centre point of a T shaped road. Another bonfire of tires and burning flesh was down the left road (the stench by God was awful), blocking passage between two battered houses. Down the main street was a grand town hall at the end, on its main doors sides were two _more_ fire pits, he went to investigate.

On his sides of the main road were six Jesus crosses, only these one's weren't the barren ones like in the graveyard. These were crucifixion types, and all of them had one man sown to them by their hands and feet. Deep, rusty nails went through their wrists and out the other side of the wood, blood dripped endlessly in smooth streams to the ground below them like small fountains.

"Kill me." one wheezed.

"End it." cried another.

Each of them looked like Powder Gangers, but Ryder couldn't be sure.

As he closed in on the town hall, out poured seven men from its doors. Each one wore red and black attire with small skirts covering down to their knees. Some of them had dark bandana's covering their faces, others had giant black goggles, but all of them held spears or swords, and they were all pointed at him aggressively.

Legionary's, of course.

He could take of few of them down from range, or perhaps if he had Grace, he wouldn't even need to waste a bullet, but they did not advance, and neither did he. One Legionary walked forward from the group a moment later, separating himself. This was a pale man wearing a skinned wolfs head as a hood. This man crossed his arms, and sounded slightly high pitched, and raspy, yet cold… and cruel.

"Don't worry, I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates." He waves his arms to the crucified Powder gangers. "I just want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, take in every detail. And then… when you move on?"

Ryder went to answer, but took too long, the Wolf Man continued.

"I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across."

"Who are you?"

"I am Vulpes Inculta, of Caesar's Legion. The greatest of the Frumentarii. Skilled infiltrator's and agents, we are. Don't doubt it."

Not one to anger a group larger than he, (well, there are exceptions) he chose his next words carefully, each one slow and tender.

"Wiping out the Powder Gangers has a certain… beauty, I guess."

"It's not just them, this town of whores deserved no quarter, morally sick, dissolute; perfect object lesson."

"And you killed them all?"

"Only the lucky losers, some crucified, some slaved, the winner lives, runner up has his legs broken, he's over there, should you want to speak to him."

Right of the hall, a man slumped next to the wall, almost sleeping, looked dead, kind of.

"All shall bask in Caesar's glory… or you'll die in it."

"I'll, uh, keep it in mind."

"I bid you Vale, then. We've spoken enough."

Ryder didn't feel like talking to him anyway, the man radiated Seth in a disturbing way. The Legion party said no more, and trekked off north into the hills without a glance nor word.

Ryder picked clean the town with little remorse, he hadn't exactly got any attachments to anyone, and Nipton was no exception. He found a bit of shotgun ammo, and a handful of caps, a few rounds for pistols, he took them to sell.

"Goddammit, I was nodding off until you barged all up in my grill!" said the broken legged men when Ryder crossed him, even though he was silent as a mouse. "Hey! What the fuck is your problem? Why are you stealing all this shit, man?"

Ryder ignored him.

Most would think that looting a town of dead people was immoral, a bad thing, sick even. But so was killing, and in a world like this, barely twenty years old, left on your lonesome, killing and looting became almost second nature to Ryder. That was, of course, challenging at times, most recent being at the quarry.

If she was out there…

Would he tell her? Now that she could speak, she would certainly keep on bringing it up, wouldn't she? The young are always curious, and wouldn't stop for answers, like him in his revenge.

He had a cold thought in his head; a hope, that she was dead, and he wouldn't have to worry about it. How simple it was to shrug off-

He walked out the eastern road, forcing his mind to change topics.

What happened next would have been very familiar if Grace was here, she had, in fact, heard the next voice on Ryder's in built radio in his helmet. But of course, Ryder didn't know about the trap on the eastern road, and was in for his money.

… Maybe.

A railway line cut through the road just outside the town, two carts were coupled together just off to the left. Two high cliffs on the sides forced Ryder into a small valley.

He should've seen this coming.

On the high cliff on his right came two figures, one in front of the other. The other cliff held three more, two women and a man, looked like.

The one in front on the right cliff – presumably the leader – cupped his hands to his mouth, and yelled:

"…"

The cliff was very high and somewhat far from Ryder's standing point, all he heard was a low murmur, even though the man was shouting down at him. Ryder narrowed his eyes for a bit, then cupped his right ear to reinforce his hearing, then leaning forward slightly.

Of course, it didn't help.

"What!?" Ryder cried.

Distantly, the tiny figure of a man said this:

" _I said get ready to dance!"_

But Ryder didn't hear that.

"Huh!?" echoed Ryder's voice. He then made a giant shrugging motion, then crossing his arms back and forth, trying to tell the speaker he couldn't hear anything.

The figure behind the leader said, "I told you no one can hear us from so far!"

The leader turned. "Then we will have to go to him, come! Hurry on!"

The slightly stocky leader grabbed the cloth covering his knees, lifted his pants slightly, and took two careful steps down the rocky slope, sort of like a maid would do if she didn't want to ruin her dress (and in a weird sense, the leader's mind felt the same way).

The lackey came up behind him, took one step, and tumbled passed the leader.

"Aaaaah!" flickered his voice suddenly, then was gone past the leader.

"You got to be careful, like - oh sh-"

The leader did a front flip, landed face first into the cliff edge, and soon joined his compadre on the ground floor. Alive, somehow, both of them were.

The three on the other cliff did the same, and as expected, tumbled down the rocks without grace or care. They all landed, sprawled before Ryder like oafs.

"Sheesh, I'll feel that in the morning." moaned the leader, the rest growled in agreement.

Then, all of them as one, they turned their necks to face the young assailant who fell into their trap. Who had un-holstered his hunting shotgun while they all tumbled down the hillsides.

"Hey Jace! We got one!" said one of the women to the leader 'Jace'.

"No Jane, use the nicknames! I mean, J!"

"Oh, alright, J, we got one!"

The boss, Jace, got to his knee, and dramatically beckoned a finger to Ryder.

"You!-"

"What were you saying before?" Ryder interrupted.

"I was getting to that!" Jace said, not losing his confident and proud voice (not to mention slightly loud).

"Oh, sorry, continue."

"You! Have befallen into a trap of the CJ's! Give us all your loot, and we MIGHT let you live! Or resist, and face our… _wrath!_ "

Ryder pumps his shotgun with one hand, but quickly fumbled and saved the cartridge with his other hand before it hit the ground and went to waste.

"I think I'll take my chances, Jace."

"How does he know your name?" said Jane.

"Because you said it out loud, idiot!" said a shorter man next to her.

"… Sorry?"

"No matter!" Jace stands, but his little group simply stared stupidly up at him like sheep would a Sheppard. He whipped out a concealed Uzi pistol, and held it high above him, aiming directly up.

"Let us see what you are truly made of!" Jace cried proudly.

He pointed the Uzi forward.

"Lets dance."


	10. Chapter 10: Purification II

**Purification II**

 **1**

 _ **KA**_

 _ **Chuk-Chik**_

 _ **KA**_

 _ **Chuk-Chik**_

Two shotgun blasts, and two were dead before even getting off the ground.

Ryder dove to the right as soon as he was able, desperate to avoid the Uzi that Jace had begun firing wildly. The train carts were close, but the Uzi was closer. He extended his arms out and lunged with all his might to cover, but he felt a few small tingling sensations dot his left leg, just below the knee, he cringed in pain but was relatively unmoved. He put his back to the cart in time to avoid the rest of the fire.

Warm blood went flowing, Ryder felt it in his boots. He peeked and fired a blast at Jace as the man slowly walked away reloading. His chest was clad in metal armour (the only one, the others all wore leather), and it must've been thick – or perhaps Jace was simply fat enough to absorb the hit – in any case, he took it like a champ and needed no other incentive to move.

The two lackeys left (one woman and one man) went crouched behind a pile of rocks that were too small for their grown frames; their sides, feet and head were clear as day, but they pulled out two assault rifles and sent the cart a wave of gunfire. The bullets plinked off into the distance as Ryder hunkered, wincing as the bullets passed his ears.

Ryder whipped out a stim and sent the syringe into his leg, injecting the fluids into his body, it soon felt as if no one had even shot him, his face told it all. The woman had seen this, and gave off a loud war cry as she charged him, hails of bullets going off into the sky and ground as her body shook under the intense sprint.

With only a small turn of his head, Ryder aimed and fired, her head went red, and she was no longer recognisable as she fell to the ground face first. The other man gave a scream at the show of blood and brains, and heaved his breaths so heavily that even Ryder could hear them.

"J-Joe! Snap out of it man!" cried Jace.

"No! No no no no no! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Jace yelled and charged forwards from the opposing side of the road, then he yelled louder and charged backwards when Ryder sent him a wave of pellets. Jace ducked and rolled all the way from one side of the road to the other – which took about five long seconds, but seeing the chubby man roll made Ryder's brain stop in half amusement, half confusion.

Jace went to cover, Ryder pulled out his other weapon, and the two traded fire, Uzi on magnum.

 _ **Brrrtrtrtrtr!**_

 _ **PFFF!**_

 _ **Brrrrtrtrtr!**_

 _ **PFFFF!... PFFFF!**_

 _ **Brrrrrtrtrtrtr!**_

The cart was about two meters wide, and on each side one man ducked while the other fired, each one peeking out to the other like gopher's playing peekaboo.

Ryder fumbled with the small auto loaders, and when he didn't fire back for a few moments, Jace peeked at him and grinned.

"HA! Out of ammo? Your mine -OOF!"

Ryder had thrown his magnum, landing a direct hit on Jace's forehead. Jace retaliated and sprayed his Uzi… but… all they heard was the sound of a few tiny clicks.

"Damn it!" said Jace, and threw the Uzi at Ryder, hitting his armoured shoulder. Ryder picked it up and threw it back, Jace picked up _both_ guns and threw them at him. Ryder returned them, only for him to receive them back a second later.

 _I'll outdo him,_ Ryder thought, _I'll just-_

He held the two guns in his hands, posed in the middle of a throwing motion when he stopped and turned away, leaning heavily back on the cart. Did he always feel this terrible? His eye (no plural) went fuzzy, the world went blurry and swirled about as if it all revolved around _him_.

An unstoppable twitch went through his right foot's toes, they scraped the nails against the boot soles like some rodent digging away at dirt.

Then, he hurled.

Hurled up all he had eaten the day before, all of it in a nice neat pile of green to his left, thankfully none of it stained his attire. _Everything_ came out, and it didn't stop for a long horrifying minute, when he felt his stomach had nothing left, the fountain of muck from his mouth stopped, and he felt quite dead on the inside. He let out a pained sound.

"Uhh… you alright dude?" asked Jace, peering over the cart with the tops of his eyes.

"Yeah… Just… Just gimme a minute."

Ryder felt dumber than ever before, the world refocused _slightly_ but it was still poor. He willed his foot to stop, but the twitching… it transferred! His left hand wouldn't stop! Suddenly he felt rather impatient… and blood thirsty.

All that happened next was automatic.

He stood up, walked _past_ the cart to the rock the cowardly lackey was hiding behind. He put one boot up on the rock and put the barrel of the shotgun to the back of his cowering head.

"What! NO!"

Those were his last two words before countless pellets tore through his head and dislodged the bone that was once called a jaw. Blood flew and painted Ryder's face, but it missed his eye thankfully, he turned. _Now just one more…_

Jace. Holding his hands high, though one of them wasn't empty, a small needle, filled with a blue liquid that swished about.

"Victory is yours! Just… Just don't kill me!" Jace pleaded.

Ryder's voice went slightly insane, a bit of foam frothed the corners of his mouth as he pumped his shotgun again. He spoke with hard eyes.

"And why would I do that?"

"You… you have a problem man!"

Ryder almost growled, his eyes narrowed so much he looked to be asleep.

"I mean! Uhh… Y-You can get some help - from me! I… I know withdrawal when I see it!"

The holds the syringe forward.

"Fixer! Its Fixer! I know it won't cure it but… it can delay it! Its fine! Look!"

He squirts a small amount into his mouth and swallows, then starts hacking his throat away. When it ceased, he smiled.

"Tastes great!"

Ryder beckoned him over with a series of quick waves, Jace approached the – certainly crazy looking guy – carefully, syringe out front so far ahead of him his arm went tired.

Ryder snatched it from his clutch, and wasted no time in settling the sharp point into his forearm, the shaking one. He lifted his head up and gave a long sigh of relief – clenching his fist – the liquid… he could feel it inside of him, sort of like a hundred small Radroaches digging into his veins. His eyes were watery as he clenched them until the pain subsided, for now.

"Aaaah…"

"Better?" Jace asked.

"Mmmm."

"Sheesh, which one?"

"Mentats."

"Well, heh, lucky I had a Fixer hey?"

"Very… _convenient_. _"_

"Hey! That guy you just killed, Joe, he was an addict too! I carry one around for him every day. I suppose he… doesn't.. need it… any… more." with every word that passed, Jace's shoulders slumped, but he brought them up again brightly. "But oh well! They were all assholes anyway!"

"Indeed, you _are_ assholes. I gotta go."

And like that, Ryder turned and trekked up the steep hill to Novac. Spinning in front of him with wide arms and eyes came Jace again.

"Wait dude! You can't just leave me all alone after killing off my family!"

That hurt Ryder, a subtle reminder of…

"W-What's wrong dude?" Jace asked. "Look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Nothing, _dude_ , you want to tag along with me?"

"Well, duh!"

"I wasn't offering."

"Oh, well, yes please?"

"Do us both a f…. a f-favour, and go back the way you came."

"You going to Novac?"

"…"

"I came from there!"

"And you'll go there in a bag if you don't… don't…." Ryder made a small gargle with his throat. He bent forwards and… hacked away again.

" _You're the_ one who needs a bag, man."

It was obvious Jace could've done something, _anything_ , and Ryder would be at a loss, but Jace simply stood back, as if not wanting to dirty his oddly shiny cowboy boots. This time, Ryder was _sure_ he could not hurl anymore, and walked off, as if nothing had happened.

Ryder went on his way. Jace followed him along with a bounce in his step.

 **2**

"I once looted a _thousand_ caps off of one guy!"

"Really…"

"Yep! And! This one time, there was these people called the Boomers, and they shot _artillery_ at us! I was the only one to live!"

"Uh huh…"

"You know I once took down three groups of raiders all on my own?"

Huffing, Ryder turned and pressed a finger into the metal chest plate of Jace, it was riddled with pellets, but it didn't affect Jace's voice at all.

"Oh, so you kill your own kind AND random people?"

"What? How dare you assume that I, Jace, am a raider?"

"Stop talking like you got a stick up your arse and shut the fuck up."

They had been walking for some time now, across a bridge and through a valley that took hours upon hours. And in that WHOLE time, Jace kept on boasting about all these little insignificant annoying things. 'Oh, I could've taken you on if I had my OTHER Uzi!' or 'Would you like to join the CJ's? Four new positions have opened up as of late!'. It annoyed the hell out of Ryder and neither one knew why.

"Dude! What's your problem? You killed _my_ friends and I'm only trying to be friendly!"

"You need to _try_ and leave me alone, I don't know why I haven't just shot you yet."

"Are you always like this? Cause I think I know why you-"

"No!" Ryder said, walking away. "No I'm not _always_ like this! I'm searching this wasteland for people I don't even know are out here! I'm addicted to _shit_ and I got your annoying ass at my back!"

"What? Who are you looking for?"

"Some Khans, a chequered-suited man, a Purifier, they tried to kill me and my friend, that's how I got this." he points to his bandaged eye. "I'm half blind and starving, don't think for a second you wouldn't be pissed if you were me."

"Well, let's go get a drink, you certainly need one!"

"Fuckin-A I do!"

A minute of silence passed by, the sun was getting far in its daily journey across the sky, it would be about sunset by the time they'd reach Novac. Ryder took a deep breath, two more, than one longer one.

"Uh, what's your name again?" Jace asked unsurely.

"..."

Ryder kept on walking, Jace kept on following.

"Who, uh, who was your friend?"

"Why do you care?"

"Just trying to make conversation. What? Never socialised before? Don't have any crazy stories to tell me?"

"Ha! There is one, though you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me!"

"Well. Ever hear of a talking Deathclaw?"

He slapped Ryder's back, almost painfully.

"What! Get outta here!"

"It's true."

"Well where is it? I wanna see this for myself!"

"That's… that's the problem. I have no idea where she is, and… and I don't know how I can find that out."

"Don't worry buddy!" said Jace, slapping his back again. "You'll find him."

"Her."

"Right, _her_."

"Your group, the CJ's, how many of you are there?"

"You want _everyone_ , or just fighters? We have quite a lot if I say so myself."

"Everyone."

"About thirty."

"Not bad…"

"What was that? I didn't catch it."

"No, nothing."

"Hmm, okay."

They breasted another hill on the long stretch of black road. The world in this place seemed very still and empty. No rodents, no people, no nothing. Not even a single house to loot. Just piles of dirt, dirt, and more dirt. A rocky mass on the left, a deserted plain on the right. Ryder supposed not many wanted to live out here, so far from the blinding lights of Vegas. Before or after the war.

But at last, after a long while of walk-and-talk, a small settlement presented itself on the horizon, directly north from there standing point.

"You see the dinosaur statue?" asked Jace, hands on the tops of his eyes to shield them from the sun. "If your guys came through here, the snipers up in the mouth would've seen em'."

"Snipers?"

"Yep, Legion are massing to the east, Novac's in its way, they'll roll them over like dough before the pin if they don't have someone watching."

"What does that even mean?"

"You know - pizza? 'Cause you roll the… the pin and… and the dough is Novac… never mind!"

A large motel dominated the centre of town, as did the massive dinosaur figurine. Surrounding its west side were rows and rows of small crumbling houses. The townsfolk gave them nothing but a glance as they entered, the folk wore colourless drabs and most were bare-footed. The poor town seemed dead from the inside, it made both he and Jace slightly sadder just watching them. The roads were even more crumbly than the ones leading to it, the ground was uneven, the whole place was a giant junkyard at best.

A set of stairs led up into the upper leg of the dinosaur where a red door was built, they both entered. Inside was a small gift shop, shelves lined the walls holding a number of assortments and interesting items, medicines, canned food, even a few books and the odd plasma grenade. Who knew what armament lay beneath the counter, where a jolly man welcomed them in with wide arms.

"Welcome to the Dino Bite Gift Shop. My names Edge."

This gentleman seemed a bit better off than the rest of the towns inhabitants, he had short combed hair and wore a nice stroller outfit, washed recently, looked like. He waved a hand behind him, but no one knew what he meant by it.

"If you're here for the t-rex figurines you're just in time, I still got a few left."

"Yeah! Hey, man, want a figurine?" Jace asked excitedly, turning to Ryder.

Ryder huffed, somewhat annoyed, somewhat intrigued. "What kind are they?"

Edge went wide eyed, then eyed them suspiciously. "What did you just say?"

The two of them leant up against the counter, then Jace said, "Let's have a look at em'."

Flabbergasted, Edge replied with, "I, well, um, sure! I… I'll get some right away!" He disappeared into a small side room, they could here crashing and banging every few moments, they exchanged an uneasy glance before Ryder spied a set of stairs leading up on the left wall. He presumed this to be the way to the mouth.

"I'll be back in a bit." he said.

"Alright then, I'll save one for you!"

Ryder shook his head and went up the steps.

He assumed correctly, two sets of plastic teeth lined the outer rim of the wooden platform inside the dinosaurs mouth. It was small, cramped, because a sniper-wielding man with a red beret shared the space with him. He turned his gaze from the nearby bridge and raised his eyebrows.

"What's going on man?" the sniper asked coolly.

"I'm looking for a man with a chequered suit."

"Wow, no introductions, no formalities, sure, I know him. What do you want with him?"

Ryder pointed at his bandaged eye and smiled without humour. "Gave me this."

"Not surprising." he replied, looking back over his shoulder, then back to Ryder again. "He'd do whatever it takes to get what he wants, you must've had something worthwhile, I guess."

Ryder said nothing.

"Well listen, I can help you find him, but I've got problems of my own. I've left to many homes behind, Novac, I want it to be for good for me. But the only thing the people have to trade is junk, without that they'd all leave."

"So?"

"It comes up the road from an old rocket test site. Bunch of ghouls showed up one day and took it over, we can't get in there now."

"And you want me to clear it out?"

"I'd appreciate it."

Ryder shook his head. Now he had to go deal with someone else's problem just to solve his own. It certainly was time consuming, this whole thing, what if he did this, and this man told him the suit wasn't even here? Maybe left the Mojave for good, heard rumours of Ryder's resurrection and left? The whole trip would be a waste!

"You didn't see any… Deathclaw's around here… did you?" Ryder asked after a pause.

"Not in a long time, they don't come out this way, good riddance, I say."

"Fine, where is this rocket site?"

"Just up the west road, short walk there. Let me know when you're done," he jerked a thumb backwards. "I gotta watch the road."

Ryder returned back to the gift shop without another word. From the angle the stairs gave he could see Edge tinkering with random bits and bobs inside his small closet. he saw many things, but, there was perhaps thirty or so small t-rex figurines he could see. Edge slammed the closet door shut and went back to the counter, putting two figures down.

"Last two, I could let them go for, say, one hundred caps each."

"That's a hell of a lot." Ryder said suspiciously.

"Yes, but for these two beauties – last of my stock – I couldn't give them away for anything less."

Jace was counting caps in his palm, murmuring the amount in a low voice. "Fifty, fifty one, fifty two…"

The figurine was just that, a figure, about as high as a foot, it seemed in rather poor condition (then again, what _isn't?_ ). The sides were scraped and flaky, the toes seemed off and wonky, even the small hands had a few fingers missing, not to mention both of the heads were scratched and faded.

Jace whispered into Ryder's ear, and they both giggled like schoolgirls, hands on mouths.

"What?" said Edge, twitch in his eye.

Jace, "I think we should take our business elsewhere, don't you think buddy?"

Ryder, "Why, of course, I guess someone else will have to take these figurines, sorry Edge."

They were halfway out the door when Edge leant so far over the _edge_ of the counter to look after them that he toppled over and fell on his head.

"NO!" he pleaded. "Please! No one ever buys the t-rex's!"

Jace turned and stopped Ryder. "I'll take twenty for… ten caps?"

"Only ten?!"

"Nevermiiiind…"

"No! Wait! Ten's fine!"

After a few minutes, Jace and Ryder walked out of the dinosaur, in Jace's hands was a whole body bag full of small figurines.

"So what did the sniper say up there? He see the guy's your after?"

"Yeah, but he won't give it up unless I clear out the nearby rocket site."

"I'd help you but… I kinda… dropped my… Uzi… back at the… thing-thing…"

"Well, go on then, go get your groups shit and I'll go my own way."

"What? No… I'll wait for you here, man. Unless you want me to come in and help ya? Jim and Jane would love to help!"

"Who?"

Jace held up his two fists after dropping the bag down.

"No thanks."

"Then I'll see you at the motel bar!"

"Why are you even trying to stick with me?"

"Why not?"

Ryder gave an annoyed sigh and told Jace 'fine'. Ryder quickly sold his pistol and the scavenged ammo for more shotgun shells at a passing trader. Jace went to the bar gleefully at Ryder's mention of 'booz'.

But just before he left the dinosaur's presence, something caught his eye, a small glint, like a shooting star. He turned his head and saw a bridge leading out of Novac leading east. Was it the metal bars on its sides reflecting the sun? Couldn't be, the sun was very low on the horizon. But then the glint flickered on then off again, slightly to the right of the bridge. There was a large rock off the path, sort of looking like a hand giving him the finger. It was a bit taller than him and just as wide.

Was the small light coming from the rock? He walked up to it. Ran his hand across its smooth surface. Something caught his eye at the base and he quickly looked and saw…

Nothing.

Just brown rock.

He simply shrugged it off as nothing more than his imagination, turned, and went west, down the road to the site. But just before he could leave the outskirts of town, he heard the familiar sound of a rolling wheel and the static of a television screen. Without turning Ryder said:

"Victor?"

"Butter my butt and call me a biscuit, if it aint my old friend from Goodsprings!"

Ryder turned and shook the robots outstretched tube hand.

"How'd you get ahead of me?"

"Don't rightly know – maybe your just a slow poke?"

"Right. Nice place, isn't it?"

"It's nice enough I suppose… but between you and me – when I rolled into town my skin started to itch." then he lowered his voice to almost a threat. "Watch yourself."

"What's next for old Victor?"

"I might just mosey on around here for a while, it's no New Vegas but."

"You sound like you don't want to talk to me."

"Do I? Must've got some dust in my throat."

"Funny, you don't have a throat."

"'Course I do! Any who, I better get going, happy trails!"

Again, he abruptly leaves on his little wheel to who knows where. Ryder had a sunken feeling that this would be certainly _not_ the last time he'd see Victor… again.

He went to the site alone, he would return… different.

And the rock would glitter.

 **3**

Killers are born, not made.

Addicts are made, not born.

Lives are irreplaceable.

Ghouls were irradiated people, just like he was, just a bit more flaky and skinless. Some of them living today have been at it for two hundred years, they saw the world before the apocalypse.

Now they saw nothing.

Ryder appeared electrifying as he entered the site, shotgun at the ready. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, a thousand voices, some friendly and forgiving, most horrified and angry. Boots clopped against the lobby floors, halls, stairs, everywhere, movement was abundant, drawing his barrel forward to his targets.

The walls were painted white, but nukes made it drably and grey and cracked. Raspy voices echoed off of them. _This way!_ _Down the hall quickly!_ were but last pleas and orders. The lone gunman followed them, they were odd, old, and in his way.

All were in his way.

The people – Ghouls, whatever – ran, and try as they might, the site was never big enough, and the rooms – tens upon tens of them – seemed not enough to hide from the approaching Demon.

 _ **KA**_

 _ **Chuk-Chik**_

Those grey walls? They were actually red, yes, blotches of crimson that ran down them slowly, very slowly. A flock flew down the stairs, but the Demon awaited at the base for them. Shotgun levelled at its hip, it mowed them down as they scrambled like frightened cattle. There was no running, there was no escape, there was only death.

They tucked away – the flock, that is – and hid in every crevice and canny of any room. They tried barring the doors, didn't work, the ominous _**KA**_ of the rifle sang the halls a song of death and despair, sending the flocks hopes down the drain to hell. Death shadowed the Demon like his cloak that draped his shoulders.

The Demon's one remaining eye was burning with hate and rage. Was this who he was? Or was this the withdrawal again?

Then that word came back, the word, the word, the one to make him feel smaller than dust. He killed another pair of the flock, shotgun in one hand, stim in the other. The word was _fate._

"Please!" one begged. "Why?"

He shut her up right quick.

A group nearly made it to the lobby, twisting and turning about the halls, zigzagging even so as to avoid his hails of death, he went stiff, the whole ordeal was intense (at least, that's what he felt) he could not let anyone get away, no, they would come back, spread themselves, reproduce, make more, be back in greater number… he had to take it out from the source.

He killed them, a long line of them trailing up the stairs to the second floor. He hated them with all his soul, why take this place anyway? Why stop Novac from its source of junk? He did admire them though, taking such a large site as their own, Ryder sure would like a whole rocket test site to himself. _Just me, myself and I_.

His insides went greedy, the whole place was filled with crap! Crap he could sell, money, sell it for money, buy himself something nice…

His left arm twitched.

He squeezed the trigger.

Twitch.

Trigger.

Twitch.

Trigger.

His primal instincts for killing came over his brain. And as did the voices. His thirst for _tats_ broke his will, his hunger hadn't been quenched in forever.

Four more.

Six.

A group of ten.

Gone. Butchered. Slain. Mini explosions tore limbs, a dozen pellets chewed off a neck, he even gutted the final few that had their legs crippled as they crawled away desperately with their bloody arms. Terrible ripping sounds as he plunged the knife down in massive arcs. A whole hour of crushing bones and flesh torn apart like Velcro.

A whole hour of screams.

An hour of death. The Harbinger did his work. All of it, unnecessary. The flock of Ghouls had enough trouble as it was, dealing with giant blue beings that haunted the halls. Now though, now the Demons had killed them, hacked away at their last hopes of salvation on their Great Journey to the world beyond this, a world were Ghouls live in peace, not in ruins.

Now they simply don't live, perhaps it was for the best, it was a much quicker journey anyway.

There was a whooshing sound in his head, sucking all this away in a vacuum.

A long, long time ago, he and his mother had just finished clearing out a vault-full of raiders in order to give his mother a safe home. And when at last the two of them stopped in there butchering. He confessed to his mother about the inner turmoils of his killing spree.

"These people brought death closer in its journey. We all walk the path to him, but its people like _these_ who cut the corners."

Did these Ghouls cut corners? Did they deserve it? Was his quest across the Mojave enough of an excuse?

 _If I doubt myself so much, why did I do it?_

 _If you hadn't taken those damn drugs to fill your ego, you wouldn't be having these thoughts._

That was the voice of his father. The first, was his younger self, one that wouldn't hide himself away like he was now, like Jace, for example. _Just trying to make conversation_ , he had said.

Why?

There he was, sitting cross-legged on the lobby counter, gun at his side, blood on his hands, eye twitching nervously, peering left and right rapidly.

 _Is it over?_

…

 **4**

Yes, it was.

He hung his jaw low as he observed the scene before him. The nightmare was real, mounds and mounds of dead Ghouls, lines of bodies leading to the doors, stairs, lifts, everywhere. His gloves were no longer black, they were deep red… _blood_ red. He undid a glove and saw drying blood cracking in his nails, how this happened, he didn't want to know.

He could feel his hair flake when he brushed it in one stroke. A small puddle had settled there and dripped off and over his ears. He wiped his brow, leaving a hand trail of red there on his already red-ridden and stained face. He felt like he had just taken a dip in a lake, he was shivering, twitching, all over, every vein and muscle was vibrating with disgust and fear.

One horrible, commanding and victorious voice came into his thoughts, five words. Five. Hurtful. Words. They rang about his head like an unanswered telephone.

The five words were-

 **5**

As if each step would break his legs, Ryder walked painstakingly slow back to Novac. He didn't move his arms, nor lift his eyes from the ground. The voices had stopped, and his mind was blank. He thought nothing, said nothing, simply slung his gun back and draped his way down the road. The thirst for killing, the impatience – gone. He was… empty, he was… confused. He needed a hug from someone.

Like that little Deathclaw in that cart.

If his first entry to Novac was uneasy, the townsfolk gave him an even _wider_ birth as he walked the main street with still arms, gaped mouth, covered head to toe in blood. Even the Brahmin of the trader rumbled disapproval at its close presence to him.

He went to the bar in the motel lobby. The old lady at the counter gasped when she saw him but he bypassed her. At the far wall was the bar with chrome coloured and well maintained stools that shone there perfection. On two of these stools was a cute girl, and a not-so-cute and slightly fat man.

"-and that's when it shoots." finished Jace, who turned to see Ryder, Jace's face would have been funny (big O shaped mouth, brows that disappeared into the top of his head) if Ryder hadn't just gone through something he hadn't quite gotten grasp of yet.

"Dude!" he said, then shooed the girl away with a series of hand motions that said _'away with you!'_ He stood up and put an arm around the shoulders of Ryder, who hadn't moved since entering.

"Come on." Jace said lowly, ushering him to the stools (and regretting touching his cloak, blood everywhere), sitting on the ones the girl and he had just used. He waved a hand to the old lady. "Get this man a drink!"

Jace ducked his head low while a glass was fixed for Ryder by said lady. "Man, you look very… unappealing, to say the least. That's not your blood, is it?"

Ryder stared at the wooden bar top as if locked on it, then said distantly, "No."

"What on earth happened? Your more bloodier than a new born!"

Ryder cast his cold, empty, purposeless eye to him. His face that of unbelieving, unwillingness to live, he sounded just about ready to pass out.

"I… I… I killed them… I killed them all…"

"I can tell, here."

Jace whipped out a concealed handkerchief from his pocket, and gave Ryder's sleeve a small wipe.

"Might need more than this." Jace said, eyeing the hanky.

"It'll… go away…"

"Did you bathe in that shit?"

"I dunno."

The lady smacked a glass down on the counter, Ryder wasted no time in downing it… two seconds flat. It burned his throat, if it could burn anymore.

"It… it was a massacre. A slaughter. A…"

"A massacre slaughter?" Jace suggested.

"The blood… the limbs… what's wrong with me?"

"Hey man, don't feel too bad, they were feral's, right?... right? Don't tell me they weren't!"

"I... don't… know."

"Well, at least you got what you wanted."

 _Yeah,_ he thought sadly, _I suppose I did._

Then those nasty five words rang his head again. It was the voice of Bessie.

 _You'd make a great Purifier._

He told himself on that day he wouldn't, no, he didn't want to become like that flat slob and her stupid creepy little brother, and if Bessie saw him now, by God, he could just imagine her fat little face laughing away at him. He held back the urge to smash the glass at his stupidity.

He had suffered withdrawal before, once, this time was no better. He shook his head.

"Down a few more shots and you'll be better in the morning!" encouraged Jace, but Ryder heard the slight tone of doubt in his voice.

"Ryder."

"What?"

"Names Ryder." he held out his hand. Jace took it with a grin, getting a red hand, but he wiped it on his belt.

"Nice to meet you. Jolly." said Jace.

"I'm _not_ Jolly."

"No, that's my nickname, 'cause everyone thought I was very… jolly, get it?"

"After killing off your group, its 'nice' to meet me?"

"You killed them with one eye man! And besides, I love helping people!"

"Aren't you a raider?"

"Now, no need to be like that."

The old lady was fiddling with the radio whilst they talked, it came to life a second later. An odd charismatic voice sounded off.

" _A package courier found shot in the head in Goodsprings has made a full recovery. The band responsible is nowhere to be found."_

"Wow, shot in the head by a band of…"

Jace turned his head to Ryder's.

"Yep."

"You? Man, hope they don't hear that!"

"I hope too."

They drank (Ryder more than Jace) and felt better for it. Ryder fiddled with his Pip-Boy, it was quite literally useless so far, though he supposed the map was neat.

But apart from that, it was good for nothing…

Just then the RADIO button lit up brightly, he pressed it and up came two signals. One was Mr. New Vegas, of course, but the other one said this:

 _Sierra Madre Broadcast_

He flicked a small switch on the side, and a woman's voice came alive from inside the small device, it was soothing… and seductive.

" _Has your life taken a turn?"_

"Yeah…" he murmured, or slurred, maybe both, but it was in a truly depressed tone.

" _Do troubles beset you?"_

"Yeah…"

" _Has fortune left you behind?"_

"Don't remember getting picked up…"

" _If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again_..."

It went on like this for a few moments, promising treasures, excitement, intrigue, beauty. It sounded _very_ promising, the voice, the clarity, he practically beamed at how good it all sounded. The speech was a song that promised all might be well, all might be well, all manner of things might be well.

" _So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October… We'll be waiting."_

Ryder thought that last bit sounded slightly ominous, but he let it go. A ping went on the map screen, just a little ways to the northeast, near the Colorado river edge.

"This is... a lot… easier then… then the helmet…"

He looked to his right, Jace looked like he had a bit too much, eight bottles of some shit Ryder couldn't be bothered reading. They rolled about on the bar loosely, the old lady eyed them from her desk behind them, but didn't comment. Jace said something incomprehensible, a long line of drool threatening to leave his mouth.

"J-Jace? You hear all that?" Ryder slurred.

Another mumble.

"Sounds… _really_ great! I better head off in the… morning…"

He didn't fight the sleep.

 **6**

That morning, the mute old lady tried in vain to wake them up, only succeeding with Ryder. Jace was out cold, and simply slept deeper every time Ryder called his name.

"Come on, wake up!"

"…"

He gave the sleeping drunk a quick backhand, leaving a bright red mark on his cheek that seemed to glow in pulses.

Nothing, if anything he seemed more comfortable, slumped there on his stool.

"You have paper and pen?" Ryder asked the lady. She nodded, went below the counter for a moment, then pulled them both out to him.

He quickly jotted down a few points, an apology, and told him he was off and should be back in Novac soon.

"Thanks old lady!" Ryder said, halfway out the door.

She nodded in return.

Ryder made sure his gear was set, he quickly bought a cheap canned meal from the gift shop before heading up to the dinosaur mouth once more. The sniper was there to greet him again.

"Hey man, clear out those ghouls yet?"

"Yes. All… all gone…"

"Thanks man, glad you stuck around to do it for me."

Obviously the sniper missed the degenerate tone that plagued Ryder's voice, but he went on.

"A deals a deal. The guy you're looking for, Benny, he's travelling with some members of my old gang, they were going to Boulder City."

"Any idea why?"

"No clue. I know Benny hadn't paid up yet, maybe that's where they were supposed to get square."

Ryder put his arm out, the Pip-Boy presenting the map. Ryder asked him where this city was and he pointed it out. It was just a bit further away from the Sierra Broadcast source. Ryder planned a trip to go there, then head off to Boulder, if he moved quickly, he could sate his thirst for answers, both this radio signal (plus what goodies it held) and this 'Benny'.

"Oh, one more thing." said the sniper as Ryder turned away. Ryder motioned for him to go on.

"There was this other guy running with them. Red head, sleazy, he might not be important but…"

"No! Tell me everything."

"Well, he mentioned attacking a ranch owned by one named 'Brooks'. The ranch was up northwest, near the corner of the wasteland, said it was 'in the way' of his group but he didn't name them."

"So they're up there, are they? Is Brooks alive?"

"He said so, ran off this way, he was looking for her."

"Thanks…"

"Manny."

"Thanks Manny."

"So long, friend."

Ryder treaded off eastwards, the signal getting stronger with each stride. Maybe this 'Madre' would fix all these problems as the lady promised him.

He was still slightly drunk as he walked on.

Far to the north, the same transmission fell on Deathclaw ears…


	11. Chapter 11: Unity, In Shadow

**Unity, In Shadow**

 **1**

The Dark Ones didn't come back after Nukpana had come and gone. Scouts would jump at shadows, the narrow pass always had at least two sets of eyes on it at all times, day and night. Though under a shroud of fear, that didn't stop Grace from going out into the wastes on her own. She'd scour the surrounding area for more _tats_ , but, as with all good things, it ended too soon. Only the four voices got any anymore, and that was as little as a half one a day. But still, Grace always kept a small stash in her little bag for her little friends.

The church held a thing they all called a 'lie-bary' and Grace had poured over as many as she could. Most were about the history of 'Cath-lism' and one tome in particular showed a small drawing of a green landscape with a small church in the centre. The world was so green! All she had ever known were those giant rocks in the quarry and the endless dirt that blanketed them. Was all this greenery imagination? Or had the world moved on long ago? She admired the drawings for days at a time, never leaving the church confines ever since her trips to the outside ended.

Currently, Grace was tucked in the corner of the church hall, little Deathclaw in one hand, Ryder's book in the other (her favourites). She was at the point of the story were Grace – the book one, that is – learns of a dark truth a dear friend of hers was holding from her. This went on to the next page, and when she went to turn it, she heard an odd beeping sound from behind her prone form.

 _ **Boo-weep!**_

The little Deathclaw in her hand whined as it opened its eyes sleepily, this one was her favourite of the bunch, very aggressive, bold, liked to bite, though it always treated her fair. She remembered Dalon going to pet it, only to lose a bit of blood from his finger, it made her laugh while making him scowl.

 _ **Boo-weep!**_

She was resting her head on the small handbag her former friend owned as a make-do pillow. She set the book down and pulled the bag to her lap. It didn't contain much, apart from the gun and… the helmet! It was making the odd noise, she took it out.

 _ **Boo-weep!**_

One of those lights on the small box on the helmet was flashing brightly with each beep. She pressed it, and a woman's lustful voice came to life.

" _Has your life taken a turn?"_

"Another little person?" Grace said, tilting her head.

"Person!" said the little one, receiving a smile from Grace. The voice went on.

" _Do troubles beset you?"_

"Why do you care?" she asked those lifeless red eyes.

" _If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again_..."

It went on, no matter how many times Grace (or the little one) interrupted it. But, as the words poured on and on, Grace slowly went silent (and so did the other Deathclaw) and she'd listen more intently. It sounded so… _promising_ , and… she could just imagine how good this 'Sierra Madre' looked. A sanctuary, for people like her! Maybe no one would notice her if she just slipped away for a day or two… The human woman's voice promised family, knowledge, friendship and.. even a brand new lie-bary. Better than what the church held, for sure.

" _So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October… We'll be waiting."_

"Oh… I think I will. What do you think, little one?"

It nodded with vigour. She had the right to call the small Deathclaw a little one, as she had grown now to about, say, as tall as a young human. She was just a 'quicker', as the Al had put it, in terms of growth.

But then she thought of something, how would she get to this place? Where even _was_ this Madre? She tried asking the helmet, the voice, but it said nothing. How would it expect her to go if it didn't tell her where it was? She went slightly steamed, and lifted up the helmet above her head and stood.

"Where is this place?" she asked it again, over and over.

" _Has your life taken a turn?"_

"Yes! I want to go!" she turned on the spot, making the little Deathclaw run circles around her. She asked and asked, but the voice wouldn't answer, that was until…

" _Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under –_ **J-Jace? You** – _star-lit skies._ "

That voice…

"Wait here."

"Ere!" the little one yelped, sitting down on its hind, gazing at her cutely and with wonder.

She went outside into the cold night, some of the Pack gave her odd looks, but didn't comment. Grace walked a fair distance out into the darkness. She held it up again, hoping that-

" _Where excitement and intrigue await around every-_ **Sounds…** _ **really**_ **–** _gaze into the sunset."_

It broke again, the humans voice, she turned it this way and that, but it didn't come back. That was until she crested a small hill and pointed the mask directly towards the lake. She was posed as if she were a prophet, and the helmet was D'law's gift unto her.

" _As you-_ **Head off in the… morning. Ah… zzzz…** _"_

Snoring. It was _him_ , she knew it was. It sounded a bit off… but she fixed it into her head, she had to find him – and tell him about the Madre, of course!

She waved the helmet left, his sleeping sounds faded, she waved it right, it came, then faded again. She brought it to the middle again, and there it was, perhaps the helmet (and the voices inside it) where pointing the way for her.

She took two steps forward, Ryder's voice and the Madre promises helping her along. A sharp hand found her shoulder, she would've jumped into the sky if she didn't recognise Dalon's voice.

"Grace? W-Where are you going?"

She turned, she had gained height on Dalon, or perhaps he had simply stopped growing, either way, she was just shy of his height now.

"My friend, that human I told you about? He's out there."

Dalon showed confusion. "I thought you said he was dead?"

"I heard his voice! On this thingy."

She held up the helmet, but all they heard was that sleeping noise.

"Doesn't sound like a human." Dalon said, unsurely.

"He was speaking before, trust me."

Dalon put his chin to her cheek, breathing deeply. The wash of air and the contact of skin forced her to close her eyes and return the gesture. "You know I do." Dalon whispered slowly.

She gazed up at the stars with dreamy eyes, slinging her handbag over her shoulder unconsciously. She spied the Tooth, pointing down to the lake, which, ironically, was like a giant talon, pointing the same way the helmet was, to salvation.

"Have you forgotten what happens in but a day's time?" Dalon asked with a hint of sadness.

"How could I? Your practically beaming like the sun in the morning whenever you mention it. Which is almost every day..."

"I can't hold myself back any longer, Grace."

"I'll be back in time for it, Dalon."

"Why don't I come with you?"

"I'm not sure _two_ of us is appropriate, I'll bring him _here_ , ease him into the Pack. I want you to warn the Four of our return."

"You know I'm not happy with this?"

"Of course, but, do this one last thing before the time comes, for me?"

"How could I deny you? You better hurry back… I'll be waiting."

She chuckled. "I know you will."

He held Grace's arm for a long moment before letting her go. He gave her a warm smile and watched (or in his case, heard) her walk south, under cover of night, he knew she would be fine. But still, he was anxious for her return.

She left the shadow of the church, a spring in her steps.

 **2**

She walked that whole night, and felt weaker for it. She at first ran, but her legs begged her to slow, and she complied. A small camp of humans wearing dirty armour (she remembered Ryder mentioning these people, calling them 'en-see-are') and gave them wide birth. The humans fired a few shots at her, but they only kicked up dust behind her feet. That was the only thing remotely eventful in her long journey into the cold night.

After long countless hours, the sun slowly peaked across the horizon on her left, baking a sliver of the sky a deep orange hue. She took out the helmet and pointed it forward, sure enough, she still heard the snores of the human clear as day. She could catch him before he moved off, if she hurried. But her legs – lean but full of muscle – were starting to struggle underneath her, even at a slow pace.

But she refused to stop, refused the temptation to rest, and went on. Another countless set of hours dragged by. Her talons on her feet scraped the dirt beneath her, leaving long scars behind her that would eventually die in the light winds passing.

As she lumbered on, she wondered how Ryder had even survived that ordeal in Goodsprings. Was he faking it? And… how long ago was that? It felt like… forever about now. In any case, it was certainly too long, but was _he_ searching for _her_? It sounded like he was just messing around with this 'Jace' figure. Why wasn't he looking for her?

She shook her head, he had no way of finding her of course! She'd simply find him, bring him back, he was good at fighting, the Pack could use a hand when the time came. Perhaps he could use that 'Death Bringer' weapon in the tower too.

The first rays of light passed overhead, and half the world basked in the cooking sun on that dry morning. She longed for the rain… she needed a drink.

Soon she came across a great ribbon of dead concrete that ripped across the landscape. It was straight on her right, but curved slowly ahead of her on the left. She followed the road with her eyes that went on and up southbound, and just skimming the horizon there – very much a speck – she could see a giant reptilian figure, a Gecko?

She sulked at that great distance, dropping her shoulders slightly, she had pushed herself further than necessary, her legs hurt and her throat burned. She spied a small puddle off the road, just near the bend. It looked clean at this distance, she decided to approach.

The puddle was about as big as she was wide, and reasonably deep. She lapped up a small portion with her tongue to test. Good. She scooped up as much as she could in her hands and drank greedily.

She took a long sniff and lifted her head up. A rotten smell filled her nasals. It was… like smoke but with a bit more fragrance – a very _burning_ odour – yet it wasn't from a fire, from what she could tell.

She heard the faintest sound of the wind gust at her backside, and the odour was fresh again (fresh not meaning pleasant). The wind sounded very parched, as if… it was all coming from a tiny source. She turned her head to the right. Just the desert. The left, a rock face.

But there, slumped sleepily against the great boulders, was a small human figure. One hand resting in its lap, the other pinching a stick to its mouth. Why would you stick a _stick_ to your mouth? That sick smell was coming from the human, yet it didn't look the least bit as fazed as the Deathclaw was.

Long grey hair fell to its shoulders, and the rest was bundled up in a small bun of hair on the back of its head. Its eyes looked rather cloudy, and as it looked at Grace, it let out a long stinky smoky cloud of air.

"Heyyyy." it croaked, sounding drawn out with an effort. The 'H' couldn't be heard.

"Hi." Grace replied. Liking the feeling of switching back to her human language persona again, having conversations with anyone other than the little ones would be nice.

The human lolled its head backwards, looking up at the sky. It sniffed, the sound of something clogging its breathing was easy to hear, it lifted the stick back to its mouth, breathed, and released the disgusting smoke again, smiling in pleasure.

"Could you not do that, please?" Grace asked. The 'human' looked at her unfocusedly.

"And what would you have me do? Not? No, nay, negatory."

"Huh?" Grace said, standing up.

"This shit must be working if you look like _that_." came the humans feminine and laid back tone. Her face that of no concern, which surprised Grace, as it actually looked _pleased_.

Grace walked up to the 'intriguing' human, towering over her, of course, yet it seemed not the least bit intimidated. It was unarmed as well, no weapon or anything from what Grace could see.

"And what _do_ I look like?"

"Hehe! Like one of those damn lizard-dragon things." She takes another breath of the foul smelling stick, letting the smoke wash over her like a personal cloak. "Is that a New York accent I detect?"

"I think so."

"Come, sit with me, miiiiiss?"

"Grace."

"Graaaace, come!" The human waves her hands rapidly to her side, a free space. "Take a load off."

Grace crossed one leg over the other and slowly slid down the rocks until she mimicked the posture of the human – taking a load off, she guessed.

"I'm Brooks." came the woman's raspy voice, she held out a fist, Grace thought she must've forgotten to complete the punching motion, as she simply let it hang there for a second before letting it drop lazily to the ground, palm up, forgotten now.

"You don't know how I feel, Grace. Ho-ho! This is good shit!"

"What shit?"

"This!" She held up the stick. "I'm stoned out of my gourd! Wanna try?" she asked, a smile looking oddly like a scar. Her whole _face_ looked like a scar, in fact, one big wound, she was fairly ugly (if Grace was one to judge).

"It smells like rotten flesh." Grace spat back.

"Oh but THAT'S the secret! Come on, just take a puff!"

"I've never, uh, 'taken a puff' before."

Brooks went wide eyed at that, and slowly turned her face to her. "What?" she exclaimed rather loudly, her dry tone echoing in the empty dawns air. "You've never roasted a nug?"

"… No."

"Never sparked the dutch?"

"Um… No."

"Never got geeked?"

"No."

"All the better! Here." she held out the stick, Grace took it. It felt like metal, and was about as long as one of her short talons, a thin trail of the deathly odour lingered up and out of the other end. It felt small in her grip.

"How do I get geeked?" the Deathclaw asked, intrigued slightly.

"Well! Put your little lips on this end here, and breeeeath it in! Simples!" Brooks made an odd squeaking sound from the corner of her mouth. Grace stared in confusion. "No? Well, that's what I get for being as old as Madonna."

Grace looked unsurely at the stick, but Brooks gave a thumbs up, although Grace ignored her. She recited the instructions in her head and… got geeked? Oh how the young were so easy to sway, Deathclaw or not.

She breathed deeply and sharply – and regretted it. She hacked away as she let the stick leave her lips, using one hand to punch her stomach to help the smoke leave her body.

"Gah!" she cried.

"Easy! Jeez, draw it out, like this!"

Once more, Brooks took it back and repeated the gesture… without coughing up? How? The Deathclaw hated the smell, but…

"Let me go again." Grace demanded.

"Arighty Gracey!"

She hands it back. This time Grace drew it in a longer breath, as told, she sucked it in deeply, keeping it hanging in her stomach for a few seconds, letting it out a moment later in a long dry sigh, one large and perfect O shaped cloud escaping from her lips.

"Damn!" said Brooks. "You're a natural!"

Grace handed the stick back. Brooks took one more draw, but when she let it out, she took the cloud into one hand, as if snuggling it, and made a weird shape Grace could only describe a small explosion of sorts, with thin tendrils of grey sprawling about like fingers.

"I call it the A-Bomb!" Brooks said proudly, the 'A-Bomb' faded into nothingness a second later, Grace nodded without interest.

The Deathclaw took the stick back and held it between her two forefingers, drawing loudly.

After a long silence, Brooks said (almost drunkenly) "Hey Gracey-poo, what're you doing out here?"

"Oh, just looking for my friend." A long pause, then, "What about you?"

"Trying to get _away_ from my 'friends'. They took away my ranch!" She said that last bit like a stereotyped farmer, which made Grace laugh, although the Deathclaw didn't really find it funny, nor did she even understand it.

"You're wearing… ahhh… you're wearing robes, and heeled shoes. You don't look like a… ahhh… farmer." Grace wheezed between long satisfying draws.

"Save some for me! Gimme… sheesh, its almost out! What were you saying?"

"Are. You. A. No, I mean… never mind."

"Ahhh." they said in unison, despite Grace not taking a draw, while Brooks did.

"Takes away alllll the worries, don't it Gracey?"

"I can't feel my hands."

"Yyyyyep!"

"No, seriously, I can't feel them... or my toes!"

"Riiiight."

"My tongue either!"

"Then it's working! Relax, aint nothing bad 'bout it. Hehehe… 'bad 'bout it', try saying _that_ three times quickly."

Grace tried, but all that came out was incomprehensible nonsense, eventually she ended it by giving up, thinking laughing was more entertaining – which it was. Brooks chortled and chuckled, while Grace whaled and heaved. Grace lost her breath so much she made loud snorting noises when she tried to breath air back into her lungs.

"Your snorting like a pig!" Brooks said.

Grace didn't know what a pig was, but, for some reason, thought _that_ was hilarious, and when she snorted again, she couldn't help herself but lose it all together.

"Where do you get this… geek?" Grace asked, after gaining control again.

"This _geek_ … you just come find me if you want anymore, alright?"

"I think I might be a regular customer." Grace said, disbelieving, her head swaying about.

"Music to my ears. Or my holes, whatever."

Yes, Brooks didn't have any 'ears', as Grace could see. Or perhaps this was her 'geek' sense kicking in. It made her see the world in a whole new perspective. The blood red sky went blue, green, grey, black, then back to red again. Over and over, switching colours at random intervals. Did she always feel this heavy?

"Maybe I should stop." Grace dragged.

"Are you kidding me?" Brooks beamed. "I got a feeling in my loins and it's not fire! Go on, one more."

"No… okay! One more, but that's it!"

 **?**

She did just that, and the Deathclaw felt worse for – felt _better_ for it, for her eyes were filled with starlight, her haunches seemed to lift off the ground. She saw it, saw everything. Empires rising and falling, worlds colliding, gods fighting in colossal battles. Sharpening knifes far off to her flank, a thief lingering in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The city of Vegas crumbling to the ground in a big pile of neon rubble. Rising. Rising from the ashes came a city that never sleeps. A Deathclaw walked the sidewalk, "Hi Phil!" it called across the strip of road. "Howdy Billy!" responded a bright white-suited man with a grin. Was the Deathclaw wearing a top hat?

Something peered at her from the shadows, there burning eyes crept over her backside. The red's watched.

Blackness, then, in its epicentre, a great blue fireball of life. Spreading, spreading, creating everything, green, so much green. Trees, things she only saw pictures of. A little animal thing that swam with fins, not legs. She witnessed the creation of all of the Mojave. Then she was flying, flying higher than the blue sky, which now turned into blackness. The Mojave landscape was bigger than she thought. It was surrounded by blue, oh so much blue. Then she went so far away that the ground was a countless distance away. The land was on a giant ball shaped _thing_. And it was flying away at an uncanny speed.

Further and further, higher and higher. The worlds heavens (atmosphere) held them in a placental sac. The sun, rising to meet her eyes-

She was blinded, she yelled out and-

Then she was on a road, walking down it, swaying slowly with each step. Then she was on a throne, high above everyone else, human, Deathclaw, Ghouls, all bowed before her like a goddess. But, she was alone. No one. Not a one.

"To far, back."

But the red's…

The sound of drums, a piano, and a trumpet? How did she know all these things? The three instruments floated in the air on her right and played – the background now like the bottom of a sunless lake – and on her left was… Ryder? Without the top half of his armour?

"I call this… the Boogie Woogie." said Ryder.

Then he bobbed his head left and right, in time with the tune. His arms curled slightly, and his hands went to fists. Then he did a spin, shaking his hips left and right, all of it perfected to the music. The tense muscles, the groovy motion, his warm smile, it felt… _odd_ , to see him like this.

 _I must be roasting the nug so bad right now._

Then they dissipated into dust, a building – like a motel – about her height, came up to her. "Hi there!" it said, two windows lighting up, a long doorway near its base opening and closing – eyes and mouth.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Sierra! Come find me!"

"I shall!"

"You shall alight!"

It went, shimmered into nothing, trails of grey and black sent away with the wind. She turned around. The red's, staring, two balls of blood.

Time seemed but a plate, shattered on the ground by a clumsy hand. This was hell, Grace was certain. The red's are from hell, she went to them, feared them, feared the _twins_.

At that time in reality, Grace felt the hell of illusions and dreams, Ryder felt the hell of withdrawal. Two plains, neither connected, but oh so similar. She heard an odd chime, one that burned her hearing. _Trouble_ , the Deathclaw thinks weakly, unable to cope with the screeching that approached. _No, its… the end…_ No, there is more, something smells off, no, not bad, _good_ , the smell of meat cooking. She heard the snap of legs, an orange flicker just over yonder – a campfire. She approaches, friends by her sides, off to the flame.

 _KA-BLAM!_

Death Bringer, Grace opens her eyes to see a billion stars wheeling through blackness, then closes them again. Her throat caught a thousand hooks, she sleeps.

She was being dragged along, bouncing and bumping, head lolling helplessly. She heard her own voice singing along to an odd tune, one familiar, dreamlike song.

" _Run away…. run awayayayayyyy! Don't leave me crying… there's no denying!"_

She looked up at the one who was dragging her along, she made out the odd shape of a draconic-lizard thing, a toothy smile, a handbag over the left shoulder. _Me?_

Grace went to ask Grace a question, but the Deathclaw was tired now and lied back to look at the stars peeking through the violet skies canopy.

 **3**

She was face planted in the dirt, one arm wrapped around her head, the other on the small of her own back. Every now and then, when the wind breezes, she smells fragrant smoke, making her mouth water. _D'law, is it over?_

She opens one eye, not moving anything else. She saw a small dying campfire, along with her handbag, the contents just slightly spilling out, the red eyes of the helmet looking back at her demonically.

She got to her knees, fell, got back up again, and looked behind her. The camp was right beside a road, which looked oddly familiar to her. It was early, the morning sun presenting itself to the wastes, no longer in a shy mood.

The freakish body of Brooks lay strewn by her side, she was groaning, coughing, and laughing, making some sick squeaky chortle in her throat.

"Woo!" Brooks wheezed. "That was better than singing Soprano!"

Brooks sat up, her back to Grace. The Deathclaw ran a hand over its face, a large mucus of pain growing inside her head.

"Gracey-boo? You alive?"

"Barely."

Brooks span about to face her while she spoke. "Glad I recognised… that… Deathclaw?"

"What?"

Brooks let her jaw drop, then she hung it back up. "Am I still… still high?"

"No."

"So your actually a-"

"Deathclaw, yep."

"That… is… confusingly awesome! Could it be? Am I the first to befriend a 'Claw? The first to get krunked with one?"

"I thought it was to get geeked?"

"I use many terms. So?"

"I have another human friend, but we never did anything like… whatever _that_ was."

"I guess all these years have been worth it then." Brooks replied in awe, grabbing the strap of the bag, putting the helmet and book back inside it, before turning to face Grace with a small smile, bag out held. "Not going to eat me? After all that?"

"Of course not. You look disgusting."

"That's racist to Ghouls, honey." Brooks said sternly, but they shared a smirk. Grace took the bag back with thanks, and Brooks looked about in all directions.

"Never walked this far when under the zone, looks like we walked about a mile, good thing nothing was out here to eat us. Then again, a Deathclaw blazed must keep the critters away! Right?"

"I think I cut a talon off on the way here. Well, I don't _think_ I do, I _know_."

To show, she held up her left hand, the pinkie nail was half as long as before, which must've been double the length of Brooks' own.

"Don't have any polish in that bag of yours?" Brooks asked, with a hint of smugness.

"What?"

"Nothing, so, what's next for us huh? There's a small trading outpost just back the way we came, I know they got more dope! Ha!"

"I'd love to, but, I need to find someone, the friend I mentioned."

"Maybe I can help?"

"I've been following this helmet, its making his sounds, well, it was."

"Let's have a chook!"

"A what?"

"A look!"

She handed it over, Brooks fiddled and tinkered the helmet with worn and expert hands, clearly she had operated one before, as she adjusted and flicked the box as if she had been doing it forever. After a moment, she lifted it up – like Grace had done – and pointed it towards Novac, where the voices came to life again.

"Yeah, built in receiver, need to face it at the source in order to clear up the static. It's cool how you figured it out so quickly. I'd ask you how you're so smart, and how you talk, and about that accent. But your friend, you said he was in that town? Well, look like he's moving east, that-a-way."

She pointed a finger and the helmet to the left of the town, they heard Ryder's voice, if but for a moment.

" **Stupid damn…** _ **KA!**_ **... Gecko things…** "

"Shooting Gecko's, and he sounds like me on a Friday afternoon! You have good taste in friends, Gracey-kins!"

"I should hurry along then."

"Hey! Don't let me slow you down with my stubby little legs. Go on, I'll be at the trading post down the road, Be there for a few days, if you want to chat or… you know…"

Grace gave a small chuckle. "Maybe I will."

"All right! And hey? Did you cook up this… steak?"

"No, I assumed you built that fire."

"Maybe I did, crazy shit goes down when geeked, huh?"

"Definitely, what did _you_ see?"

"Indescribable nonsense. You?"

Grace nods.

"Deathclaw visions, this is the best day of my life, honey."

"Glad I could help." Grace said.

"Oh shucks! Don't flatter me honey, or I might just have to return the favour, one way or another."

"I'll hold you to that, _honey_."

Brooks smirked at her new (stolen) label. She rubbed her hand over her hair, almost like a delicacy, then pointed south again.

"Go on! Your friends waiting!"

"Oh, right, see you later, Brooks."

"Anytime!"

They parted ways for now.

 **4**

Grace followed the helmet and the voice. He was getting louder, more clearer, Grace's hopes soared like stars with each passing hour. Her heart would jump whenever she would hear the _**KA**_ of his gun being fired, but she had faith in him, and when he would curse at the 'rodents' for attacking him, she would always nod in impression. She wanted to talk to him so badly, there was a lot of things she wanted to know, and most likely, _he_ had questions for her. She became worried slightly, would he even recognise her? She had certainly grown since he… well, _almost_ died, but maybe he just didn't see Deathclaw's as a threat? Maybe he doesn't attack them, and that's why he 'raised' her? She was intent on bringing him back to the Pack in order to help when the time came (after seeing this 'Madre' of course) but how would _they_ react to him? She was poorly treated at first, she had no intention of going back to _that_ again.

She would let fate run its course. Or, should she fight it?

She crossed two more hills, checking the signal again, maybe one more dune to go…

As she walked, she pondered on what would happen after the Dark Ones are gone. After that, what then? Maybe Ryder would like to stay, she certainly hoped he would, but, would he like a church as a home? Was _he_ religious? Do humans like churches?

There was simply too much on her mind at this time. She slightly loathed to get geeked again, but, maybe she's still under the influence of it, it wouldn't help, but, maybe it would help Ryder in his decision?

"What am I even thinking?" she asked aloud, the young Deathclaw clearly hated all the confusion, she put a hand to her temple to scratch a sudden irritation there. _What happens, happens,_ she thought to herself, gaining some self clarity. She'll ask him all this anyway, so, she should start running, hurry all this along.

She did. Bag flapping on her back as she raced against the breeze.

She bypassed another human military camp, sticking to the surrounding hills for cover. She climbed and crawled all the dunes, until at last-

 **5**

At the peak of a hill she stood, tail swishing behind her, one hand clutching the bag to her side, looking down at the base of the terrain.

A figure. Clad in dark armour, but lacking a helmet to protect his face, stood. It looked back at her with its one remaining eye in a state of unbelieving. A lot of unspoken words found there voice in that exchange of looks. She gave a small smile, but at this fair distance, he probably couldn't see it. She noticed that he was stood next to a small hatch made of metal, buried in the ground, the lid was open.

She didn't know this, but her 'smile' as she defined was very _un_ -friendly, in a way, she would have to work on it, as it came out looking almost like a snarl, like a predator finding its prey.

She narrowed her eyes when she heard a small cry of fear, but couldn't find the source as she looked around them. Grace looked back to Ryder.

 _He_ was the source.

 _Why would he-_

(Her previous doubts answered her…)

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thundering _**KA**_ as Ryder fired his gun at her, but he swerved to fast in her direction, and the shot went wide. She ducked under instinct, and was about to call out to him when he disappeared into the hatch, feet first, head but a blur.

She didn't give confusion a chance to slow her, she raced down the hill quickly, and came up to the hatch. It was quite wide, so she was swallowed into the ground without interruption.

Below was a small barren room filled with junk that painted the floor. The only feature within was a small set of stairs built into the corner of the rooms floor. Where she saw Ryder hastily running down, and – she could hear – the sound of a woman's voice…

" _Has your life taken a turn?"_

Was he drawn to the voice as she was? Most likely, but she stood up and pursued him, into the depths of earth she went.

After a dozen steps down, a long hallway filled her vision, at the far end was a small box where the voice came from, illuminated by one unseen light in the darkest room ever. But between it and her was the stumbling human figure, who looked back at her with a panicked face before getting to his feet.

"Wait!" she yelled, but it went unheard by Ryder, who insisted on making it the source at the end of the hall, as if life depended on it.

Using all her hands and feet, she went double his pace after him. A small portion of the hall split off to her left, but she ignored it, she was intent on getting to Ryder now before he shot at her again. It didn't take long for him to reach the end room, but she was right behind him in that chase.

As she just reached the doorway to the room, Ryder was stood next to the small box, facing her, shotgun levelled and ready to kill. His features showed one of craziness and lunacy.

"Dyrer! What are you doing?" she cried angrily.

That made him stop, and he lowered his gun slightly, crossing his brows in examination – she hoped.

Grace thought he dropped his gun in recognition of her. But she was wrong, she was _way_ off. An odd smell filled her lungs and nose. Not that crap from Brooks, no, this was something else. Something that made her insides tingle…

From unseen vents in the room, gas leaked out by the truckloads. Ryder's eyes drifted to the ground, he dropped his gun and went to his knees. He fought the urge to sleep, but like the past, it never worked. He dropped, unmoving, sprawled as if dead.

She found her legs had stopped responding, she ordered them to move, but to no avail. She pressed her hands on the ground to stop herself from falling. Her eyes flickered, filled with sleep. _NO!_ she thought, _Not now! Not when I'm so close!_

She reached one arm forward to Ryder, not caring when her chin slammed to the ground painfully, he was just out of reach. She pressed a cheek to the cold floor, and felt herself drift into unconsciousness. But before the smell took her, the lusty yet cold voice of the woman from the source gave her one final statement. Sounding methodical yet pleased as its trap had been sprung.

" _We'll be waiting for you."_


	12. Chapter 12: Whatever Challenges We Face

**Whatever Challenges We Face...  
**

 **1**

The cracked and dying floor is lost to darkness. Against a blood red sky, standing like a god among men, the Sierra Madre loomed over the Villa – powerful, intimidating – a beacon of hope lying in a city of dead. Like a thick and heavy blanket – a cloud of death grips the town, unable to let go like so many others who dared to seek out the Madre and its treasures. Its casino – a bright shining monument – lured any and all with tricks, traps and unfulfilled promises, waiting like a pit of doom. Waiting to open its doors… as it always has been… for two hundred years.

The dark silhouettes of the Villa's crumbling buildings stood ready. On the verge of collapse, yes, but waiting… waiting for its lice-ridden beds to be laid upon, its mouldy foods to be chewed and savoured, its lights to be turned on (although the bulbs cast shadows now, like some dark god who despises the light). This place was built by one man, and that one man's dream is now but many others nightmare.

The Villa was an impenetrable tangle of concrete and brick, barring the mutants way, inhibiting her, trapping her in a place of hope and promise, a place to _begin again_ , with no escape. There was no hope, no promise, she knew this the moment she woke and saw the dreaded deity projection that looked down at her with old and dead eyes of an elderly man.

"Wake up." it said, cold and harsh, as if she was a burden on that lined and worn face. "I know you can understand me, mutant."

She heard the howling, louder now, they are terribly close.

The fountain she stood before was cracked and withered. Dried up now, but long ago was a symbol of a brighter future. The start of the Sierra, the start of a new life.

Grace's new life was in this man's hands now. She tugged at the ring on her neck as it irritated her like an itch that never sleeps.

"How did I get here?"

"Get here?" the still image mused. "You walked into one of my traps in the Mojave, both of you -following the signal. Knew it worked on the FEV reject, but a Deathclaw? You'll be… quite an asset…" then it added with vocals like gravel. "…with that collar on your neck."

The image flickered, in and out, in and out went the man, though he always returned. Grace pried the collar, again and again.

"Play smart, Deathclaw?" he said, not bothering to hide his power over her. "Try to run, try to take the treasure for yourself? I'll kill you, and your friends as well. Yes, I've linked yours and everyone else's together. One goes off, you all do, your heads with it, if that's what it takes to get you all to cooperate, so be it."

"Why?"

"Breaking into the Sierra Madre is easier than breaking human instinct. Greed. I don't want to do this, if robots could do it, I would've sent them. But no, this lock requires human hands… or in your case… well, we'll see, wont we?"

"Where is my friend?"

"Ah yes, the addict, the _junkie_. Well, you best do what I say, to the letter. Follow my instructions, and I'll let you go, I'll let you all go."

"Fine."

"Good, now, go and get the remaining two collars: 8 and 21; The other mutant and your... 'friend'. Bring them here, and I'll have more instructions for you then. Go, keep moving, keep alive. Don't even think about turning on me, I'll kill you, and I'll find someone else to do it for me."

"Where are they?"

"Go to the station, mutant, stop wasting time, something you _don't_ have a lot of."

In and out went his face, but no longer did his possessive vocals tell her what was what. A small hatch closed on the fountain edge, and the hologram was gone.

The air was heavy, it corroded her lungs and skin as if she was drinking acid. She cast her eyes slowly around, she was in a small open area, barren, dead, aside from the fountain, where a woman stood atop it, one hand on her hip, repeating the same message, over and over.

 _("Has your life taken a turn?")_

She knew it was midday – _felt_ it was, but, it was so dark. She looked at her feet, and saw her shadow. _Shouldn't be,_ Grace thought, _Shouldn't be able to see my shadow when its dark._

Stupid thought. It _wasn't_ dark, it _was_ midday, for D'law's sake. A bright day, sunshine that winked off of- No. There _was_ no sunshine, as she looked up to the heavens, blocked, by a red cloud, dark and ominous that promised something terrible.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" came a praising voice at her back. She turned her head, her expression showing surprise for only a moment. A ghoul, in a neat tuxedo, skin parched beyond belief (looking like outdated jerky), however his voice remained contrasted to his body – posh, optimistic, he waved a hand upwards.

"Terrible… but beautiful, don't you think?" he said. His eyes – hidden, behind polarised shades – looked _passed_ her, not _at_ her. Grace thought as much, was _sure_.

She had to agree.

"Cloud wasn't always here, you know? Grew over the years, even without cars or factories."

"What _is_ it?" she asked.

"Don't know, such a question I'd rather leave unanswered. What with the _locals_ that prowl within it." He rolled the 'R' with an old tongue.

Grace shook her head, her body slumped slightly.

"Feeling clueless, Deathclaw? You should be. Sierra loves to do that, did she lure you here? What did she say to you? If she could draw someone like _you_ , then it must have been tempting, hmm?"

"I was… curious."

"Aren't we all? It'll kill us eventually – curiosity-" he gave a small chuckle. "-it's a bitch."

A woman, white tank top, black jeans and combat boots, came up behind the ghoul. For a moment Grace thought she was here to kill, her footsteps were silent, precise, each one timed and placed with complex thoughts and decisions, making sure the pebbles didn't crack too loudly.

But the human simply pushed away the Ghoul with a dismissive hand. It looked at Grace – narrowed eyes, studying – but it made no comment.

Grace… watched back.

Like some character in a comic, the ghoul leaned his head in between the human and the Deathclaws heads, forcing the stare down to cease.

"Helloooo?" he said. "Can the girls stop staring at each other?" The ghoul then murmured lowly, "that's my job…"

The human slowly shook its head at him, an expression of forced anger followed.

"Fine." the ghoul said after seeing her do that, "I'll just wallflower it over here…"

The ghoul walked a few feet, and leant up against the wall of one of the many surrounding Villa buildings, designed in the image of old Art Deco-era (as the ghoul would later put it). A small porch, under covered, was set aside from the fountain area by delightful archways that still shone _some_ of their former brightness. The human joined him, and a moment after, Grace did to.

"Can you help me find the other… collars?" Grace asked.

"Nope." replied the ghoul blandly. "I have no bullets, no nothing. You want to get them back? Go on, you're a big scary mutant." then he murmured again, "Though I suppose I am too…"

The human woman drew a circle in the air with her fingers, pointed to the ground, then extended her arms out. The Deathclaw was clueless to this.

"What is it doing?" Grace said to the ghoul, eyeing the human as if it was some unwanted predator.

"Oh, she's not a very big… talker, as I've found out. Some old world machine must've done something nasty to her, maybe."

He said this dismissively, a subject he didn't want to pursue, perhaps. The woman narrowed her eyes again, shaking her head.

"A mute, in other words. Dean Domino has never heard of such a thing, it's alien, for one to be in entertainment."

"Whose Dean?"

"Me! Have you never heard of- oh, right, I forget myself at times, Sierra does that to all of us." he sighs. "Oh how she's a real beut."

"Where are 8 and 21?"

"Well, while you were taking a nap, that junkie guy followed Father's orders, got this mute lady here, then I helped him recruit me afterwards. He went into the police station on his own and… well, he hasn't returned. Guess you're doing the walking now, Deathclaw."

"Can't you come help me look?"

"Oh I'd love to, no really, I would! But the Ghost People love it when I'm out of ammo, and this mute simply wants to guard this place. Tsk tsk! And I thought I was picky!"

"Ghosts aren't real." Grace said.

"And lizards don't grow over six feet tall! There real, Deathclaw, go and find out, we will hold the fort."

Grace saw Dean's cowardice, hidden behind a veil of planned lies and a straight face. The twitch of the lips, the crack in the voice. If it wasn't for those sunglasses, she would see unsettled eyes, she reckoned.

"Just point me in their direction, Dean."

"That way, through those double doors, big three story building named 'POLICE' is what you're looking for. Oh, and a helpful word, don't go wandering off to far away, you'll get me... _us_ , killed."

She gave the woman a last look, getting nothing but blankness. Grace coughed, turned, and went.

 **2**

The darkness writhed. Beckoning her. _Come,_ they said, _Come here, I promised you, didn't I? Let me fulfil it._

The Villa's walls surrounded her on her sides, one dank corridor led her through them, twisting, turning, sometimes opening up into small square courtyards, claustrophobia seeped into cracks in her mind, the fountain seemed so very far away, and the church, even further. _A new life?_ she thought, _More like a new hell._

The howling, then silence.

Where the walls closing in? Something moved in the corner of her vision, but when she looked, there was nothing. Lingering in a place like this, it shivered the bones, weakened the knees, she had to keep moving.

She went to tug at the handbag on her shoulder, to gain some closure, but it wasn't there. Had she dropped it? When? Where? Why? Did it mean anything? No. What matters was finding a way out of here, and if she had to play this game, she would. As little time as possible, so-

" _Don't sayyy that we must… part. Don't break my aching heart!"_

Somewhere, beyond the singing, a bell rang out like a professor calling for the end of recess. Or, a signalling for the time of feeding. Grace didn't give the bell a thought, her mind focused on that singing– Ryder's voice. It was coming from above her. She looked up and saw a large hole in the side of a building, as if someone had thrown a grenade there. Inside she could make out a small fire, a flickering shadow of a man painted the walls inside.

She hugged the wall as she searched for an entrance by circling its base, soon emerging into a small yard, dominated by a similar – yet not quite as brightly lit as the last – fountain. Across from her, past the fountain, was the source of the ringing bells, she made out a small sign at its door: POLICE.

But behind her, the singing continued, humming away loudly now. She did half a circle around the building – leaving the yard – until finally seeing a doorway, with the door missing completely. She entered.

It was smaller on the inside, perhaps due to thick walls or the cluster of furniture stacked like barricades, to keep something out? Or something in?

Bullet casings lay scattered about the once known 'living room', behind toppled fridges, stacked cabinets, anything really. Two bodies lay face down on the staircase in the far corner. They were covered head to toe in some odd thick suit, the mutant didn't bother searching them, they were quite dead, and there was buckets of blood to prove it.

The stairs groaned under her weight as she climbed them silently. The singing echoed throughout, she was getting close.

But, the howling was too, she had to hurry.

The top of the stairs went off to the right, concealed by a rotten wall, the fires light danced on the wall there, no shadow this time. Like a thief in the night, she peeked around the corner when she ascended the final step, one hand clutching the wall edge

There he was. His back to her, he was wearing a grey jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off scared and bloody arms and hands. On his back was a red 'X', looking like two large knife slashes. He had his knees propped up to his face, arms wrapping himself tightly.

He also wore a collar.

Behind him, two more bodies lay there, no heads, there green necks still vomiting internal residue.

She took a few steps forward, not bothering to hide the noise she made. She stopped, a pace behind him.

He tilted his head slightly to the side – the left – and a sliver of a grey iris peered at her (and that V tattoo, as dark as his messy hair), looking first to her feet, then face. The corner of his lip curled upwards. And he said his first word to her in one hell of a long time since dying. She would later smile at this moment, at its simplicity and underwhelming-ness.

"Hey."

Pause.

"…Hi."

He turned his head forwards again, now staring into the pit of fire. She continued on.

"You shot me."

"… Shot _at_ you. I was… slightly drunk."

She thought about telling him of her _run_ with Brooks, but decided against it.

She noticed he was clutching his left hand tightly with his other, a violent shake lingered on his fingertips. He brought them to his mouth and breathed heavily, heating them.

Grace heard the ring of the bell again (not so much better than the howling, which had stopped) and thought the tune was the act of the 'Father' at the fountain, telling her to hurry along and do his bidding. She decided it would be best to clear up what had happened to her quickly, she spoke a moment later.

"I-"

But she had no time to talk. Because behind her came the heavy thumping of boots. She turned. Those corpses down below had risen up. Standing there three feet behind her. Great green goggled eyes filled with death. It was no wonder they were called Ghost People, they looked like they didn't belong in this world.

 _The red twins,_ she internally thought as she peered at those eyes, _only this time they're green._

They stood without balance, without reason, on their right hands were metallic mouth-like metal contraptions with large rusty teeth. They seemed to study Ryder and her, not doing anything else but wave their bodies on the spot.

Ryder had taken an unseen spear into his hands and stood next to her. The sharp end held four curved blades, bound together by thin rope. He mumbled something, and Grace asked him what he said – in a whisper.

"Forgot to dismember them." he repeated, not taking his eyes off of the two dead men walking. She was going to ask him further, when one of those suited figures lumbered forward. Ryder went to meet it.

It swung its contraption-wielding arm over its head and down to Ryder (they were as tall as her, maybe higher). It hit his spear heavily, causing him to stumble, but Ryder made a clean slice through its midsection a moment later, spilling more blood then the Deathclaw thought it would.

Whether the suit held its internals together, or these things had some life force pumping into their bodies, it didn't matter. She took to the other.

It lumbered forward, arms out. She grabbed it by the throat and quickly squeezed, its feet lifting off the ground slightly.

Its contraption clamped onto her left shoulder, it sunk into her, she felt those rusty teeth writhing around inside her like worms. And the more she squeezed its throat, the more it tightened its clamp into her shoulder.

Through sheer strength, she squeezed and squeezed. And was rewarded with-

 _ **PIP**_

-an exploding ball of flesh and blood that spread about on the nearby walls like a new coat of paint. Chunks of flesh slowly dragged themselves down to the ground, a combination of green and red.

She let the body drop, and looked to her friend. The Ghost was face first on the ground, and Ryder was kneeling on its back, using the spear as a sort of lever, the sharp end was imbedded into the suits head. The viscous red and green spread over the ground in a great pool below the head. The crunching of bone and brain sounding awfully like boots on gravel.

He was rewarded (if you could say that) with a similar _**PIP**_ a time later, a crude hole in its brain made sure it didn't get back up. She rolled her wounded shoulder and regretted it.

Ryder noticed this, pulled his spear free, and walked up to her.

"Oh my… a-are you alright?"

Bluntly said, "No."

"Fucking bear traps, c-come over to the fire, I think I have a stim."

They did just that. A small stack consisting of an odd sandwich, a pack of smokes, a handful of bullets and a 'stim' was placed next to the fire. Ryder grabbed the stim while Grace sat back, eyeing the doorway for anymore movement.

She protested against it, ensuring him she was fine, but he replied with:

"You afraid of needles?"

"No." she said, a bit too quickly, but she was too late to realise her mistake.

"I… I may be a dumbass, but, I know needlephobia when I see it."

"Needlephobia?"

"Yeah, fear of needles! I-I think… Anyway, h-hold still."

He put the needle into her chewed up shoulder. Stinging, tingling, then nothing. It happened so quickly she went wide eyed at him.

"See?" he said. "No harm done."

She eyed the wound, then him. He got what she was saying, and mumbled an excuse for his mistake.

"Never mind that." she interrupted. "We need to get out of here."

"Are you crazy? We can't leave! There's tr… we got collars on and… _he_ is listening."

"Who is 'he'?"

"Dunno, I remember asking him and he said… he said… uhh…"

"He said 'uhh'?"

"No! I mean… I can't remember." he sulked, shaking his head to finish. He glanced at her after chucking the used stim away. "You… You wouldn't happened to have some t-tats?"

She shook her head. He didn't reply so she asked him why.

"I-" he shivered, though it wasn't cold. "-I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Bah, it doesn't m-matter. I don't need them anyway."

She glanced to the hole in the wall when the ringing sounded off again. She went to ask him something, but he spoke before her.

"Do you know what that is?" Ryder said, pointing outside, meaning the bell.

"It's the police station, that's where the other collar is."

"Oh, o-of course! I almost forgot. Shall we go?"

"Let's."

He stuffed the stack of supplies into his pant pockets, grabbed the spear, and they headed down the stairs.

 **3**

Ryder was almost useless against the green-eyed freaks.

Something was terribly wrong with him, the stutters, the shaking, it was unlike him to do those things. She asked him twice when they crossed over to the station: 'Something wrong?' and 'What's the matter?' but both he would ignore her, or say he was fine. When one of those green eyes walked up behind them, Ryder actually _threw_ his spear at it… and missed, of course. She had to behead it while he went and got his weapon back.

Before she could further his situation in her mind, they were inside the station, with her closing the door behind them. He didn't walk further, so she went ahead. But he grabbed at her unwounded shoulder, making her turn and stop.

"What?" she asked, a bit harsher than she intended, but the human was fazed by something ahead of her.

"R-Radios."

"What radios?"

"On the table there, look, you see it?"

She did. Right in front of a prison cell, which looked empty to her. "What about it?" she asked, warily.

"It'll make our collars go boom."

She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. "What did you say?"

"I said it'll detonate the collars, I'll turn it off, watch me and wait here."

He walked forward and-

 _ **BEEP… BEEP… BEEP**_

-and quickened his pace to the small stand where the radio machine sat. He crouched and pressed a yellow button on the front and-

 _ **BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP**_

-and it quickened the beeping. She could hear him cursing under his breath. He fidgeted slightly and used both his hands to-

 _ **BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP-CK**_

Ryder looked to the top left of his vision, seeing Grace remove her fist from the machine.

"Well… that works too I guess." he said, smiling in defeat. She rested her hand on his shoulder, then helped him up.

Turning their attention to the prison cell, they saw a large blue-skinned man staring at them through the bars (not noticed until now). Only this was no man, it was a mutant alright, heavily muscled (more so than Grace) and he had freighting red-orange eyes that where placed above its snarling mouth. A chain rather than a collar wrapped tightly around its neck. The word DOG was printed clearly on its bare chest, cut with knives, obviously.

"What have we here?" he said in an even tone, curious, intelligent. "You two were not who I was expecting. I'm…. intrigued, and disappointed."

It examined first Grace, then Ryder, in time with those two last words. It went back to Grace.

"I can see the intellect in your eyes, mutant. With our manacles and collars, well we might as well be kin."

Despite the coldness of the mutant, Grace ignored his remark and tried to pull the cell door open; locked tight.

"Who l-locked you in that cage?" asked Ryder.

"Locked myself in. Felt myself… letting go. Dogs howling gets louder when he's hungry. But I tell him no. Then you come along and try to wake him, now, I want to know why."

Ryder said, "I heard radios and electricity c-can cause, uh, voices in people's heads."

"Perhaps, or maybe I was here all along, watching… waiting for you. Dog and I take turns in the cage, one out, one in. Now tell me – what do you want."

"T-Turns in the cage? Huh?" Ryder asked with a raised eyebrow (the right one, the shot eye, which was simply left unbandaged now)

"Oh, but _you_ should know what I mean, human. I see it in you, ever since you fell to the Old Man's trap. Yes, we are one in the same, you and I and Dog."

"Where's your collar?" Grace said, noticing its lack of presence. The mutant turns to her.

"So it does speak." it mused. "Dog's been into things, needs to think before he swallows. Now the collar is a part of me, clicking and burning, its electronic heartbeat burns down below, just like before. It was cold and heavy before this cage, but now that you're here, its pulling and clicking again… interesting."

"Don't know why you'd shove collars into your stomach." Ryder commented.

"As if I had a choice." he defended. "Instinct takes over sometimes, that's how I got to the cage. It's like curiosity that way." he leant in and put one hand on a bar. "After all, you wouldn't have put that collar on by choice, perhaps it was curiosity that caused that hand to close around your neck."

Ryder tugged at his collar uneasily and said nothing.

"If you locked yourself in there, surely you have a key to get yourself out." Grace pondered out loud.

"The key? I hid it on me so Dog wouldn't know. Why, Dog would do whatever the Old Man told him to do if he was out of the cage."

"Dog would do anything? Like letting you out of that?" she asked.

"He… caters, yes. Why? Do you have means of contacting the old man?"

"Yes!" Ryder said, holding up his wrist. "finally has a damn use, he gave me audio logs of himself."

"You…" he growled. "Don't play it! If you do… ill find a way out and rip your insides apart. Crush your legs and arms and-"

"Whoever you are," Ryder interrupted. "I'm sorry but-"

"No." Grace said, placing a hand on his arm to stop Ryder. "No, we won't do that."

"No, you wouldn't." the mutant said lowly. "If you did, you wouldn't escape this place alive. I'd shatter every one of your limbs and-"

"We have the power to let Dog out of his cage." Grace said. "To prove it, we won't do it."

"Grace!" Ryder whispered. "Didn't you hear him? This guy's mad! He'll kill us the moment we turn our b-backs!"

"We have to trust each other, or we'll never get out of this place." she replied, then turning to the mutant she said, "We'll not put you back."

"Hmm… no, _you_ won't, but maybe _he_ will. Dog's easier to control and-"

"Forget it, _we_ -" she glanced at the human, whose expression was blank. "- _we_ will do no such thing."

"You may regret this, Deathclaw, this place is where creatures like Dog can survive. He is vicious, more so than the ones who fill the streets. Fighting in this shell is difficult for me."

"Even so, we can manage." she replied.

The mutant in the cell gave a small chuckle. "You don't belong here, Deathclaw, but you came this far and I have no interest in staying here any longer. I'll unlock the cage… lead on."

The mutant did just that. And although it was clear and justified that Ryder would be uneasy in this new additions presence, neither of them made a move on one another.

Slowly, silently, the three collars made their way back to the fountain.

 **4**

The five of them reunited (Ryder gave Domino the ammo and smokes, maybe he was holding them for him?) and stood before the deity of the Father, or the Old Man, whatever you prefer. They huddled, closer than some of them wanted, but it was better than no company at all. The shadows watched them, the hologram the only source of light in this dingy place.

"Good," it said, pleased at its slaves bidding. "well done. Now for the festivities, and your parts in all this. The owner of the Sierra Madre – for whatever reason – keyed the grand opening to the Gala Event itself."

Grace turned and asked the others what this 'event' was with a shrug and a look, they all shrugged back.

"It needs to be fired off in order for the casino doors to open. As I've discovered, one person can't do it. So, get into position located on your pip-boy, then trigger it properly."

Now it seemed almost at a plea. "You're so close now, don't let me down. Otherwise I'll have to rely on the next team."

"Wait, what is the Gala Event?" Grace asked.

"Fireworks, display of lights… music. Doesn't matter, just trigger it first… then the real work begins."

"What is this, a warm up?" Ryder said dismissively.

"You think this is a simple heist. No, were robbing history, plundering from the old world itself. It won't let it go without a fight, and I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Let's get to it then." said Domino from the side.

"The outlying Villa is far more dangerous, thicker with Ghost People, traps, toxins. Use each other as I use all of you… watch your step, listen to the collars."

It added with a hint of cruelty, and said slowly. "You're no use to me dead."

The Old Man… left.

In one big circle, the five collars turned to one another, now was the time of planning. Domino spoke first.

"That boss man, who put these bowties on our necks sure loves a good presentation."

"If he kept it down a bit, it'd be g-great." Ryder commented.

"Come on then, clever one." said the mutant 'Dog' or someone else. "Show us the map."

Ryder did, and the only one to recoil at it was Domino.

"Why am I in Puesta del Sol?" he practically yelled. Puesta was a district – due west.

"What's wrong with that?" Grace asked.

"It's a hotspot, spring, summer, winter, all of that place is filled with Ghost People. I'm not going there by myself, or staying there on my own. No-ooo way."

The mute woman gestured to the pip-boy, then to herself. Ryder said. "You're at the… s-switching s-station."

The woman nods.

"And… uh… Dog? You're at the substation."

"Indeed, none of you can rip off a two hundred year old power switch to power up an entire Villa, can you?"

No response to that.

"What about us?" Grace said to Ryder. "Where are we headed?"

"Looks like I'm at the bell tower. And you're at the… your there too, in the south side, near Dog's position. You have to authorise the whole thing from a small control point." He passed it to her. "Here."

"Pressing a few buttons, are you Grace? How come a Deathclaw gets the easy job?" said Domino, crossing his arms.

"Maybe the Old Man hasn't seen your potential yet… Grace." said Dog, almost a murmur.

"We should split up, cover more ground, get this done fast so we can open the casino." said Grace.

"No, not me." Domino. "Not on my own, we should go as teams. You know… be many, rather than few."

"Let me and the clever one go, the three of us will accomplish much." Dog said with a hint of humour, getting Ryder to shake his head fearfully.

Grace shook her head and said, "No, I'll go with you, Dog. Ryder, Dean and… whoever you are…" the mute woman raised an eyebrow at her address. "Will go as one."

"Who made you in charge?" asked Dean. "We're all Jones'd if an animal is giving us orders."

"You want to go by yourself, Dean? Want to take charge?"

"No no I'm just.. never mind. Team Human and Team Mutant it is. Shall we set off now, hmm? The Ghost People are waiting."

The two teams assembled on either side of the fountain. Ryder and Grace spoke just before parting. Grace said, "When you get them ready, meet me back here, we'll go to the bell tower together."

He shook his head. "Grace, I can handle myself you know."

"It's quite a walk."

"Relax, just stay at your place, I'll be at mine, lickity-split."

"No, we should-"

"Come now, I s-survived a bullet, I think a long walk is in my league."

Sure it was, but she had a sneaky suspicion he wasn't quite right in the head. Perhaps it was this toxic cloud in the air, seeping in and giving her hallucinations. Surely him stuttering was real? Or was it?

"Just be careful." she said after a sigh.

"Always am. Well, maybe not when… well I mean… okay."

"How about we go into the Madre together then? I'll meet you here." Grace suggested, to which he replied with a small nod of his head.

He waved her goodbye, and so did she.

She glanced back at him one last time over her shoulder before disappearing into the deeper, more denser parts of the Villa prison. The Madre always on the horizon, no matter which way she faced.

 **5**

Deathclaw and Super Mutant, two victims of experimentation, tore down the Ghost People, literally, arms, legs, and mostly heads. The hazmat suits they wore didn't offer enough to stop the superior beings (although the mutants were quite short for their kinds) from ripping them up like a scythe before grass.

Dog (who would dismiss that name, preferring God) would mumble every now and then, threats or self promoting comments, like 'Wonder if the Old Man's blood looked nice, painted on that wall over there' but what made Grace finally talk to him about it was 'Wonder if I can tear that collar off of that humans arm _and_ keep him alive'.

"Do you hate Ryder so much for that?" Grace said as they walked by their sides southward, in a wide alley with windows lining the walls like countless sets of staring eyes.

"Are you referring to his want of putting me back in the cage? Well, _you_ would be as well, wouldn't you? If you were in my… position?"

"Perhaps, but, he's my friend, he-"

"Now I wish to know how you even met, tell me."

"I was alone - he found me. To put it plainly."

"And you were part of a… pack, I presume?"

"Mhmm."

"And he 'found' you, did he? Little Grace, all alone?" She nods, annoyed at his tone as if he was talking to a child. "Interesting."

"How so?"

"Heh heh, no, nothing. But back to our first topic. I find myself… burdened. I must do all the work to keep Dog at bay. Do you feel the same way?"

"What? No, I'm not like you."

"No, but I am like our 'friend' in a way. I couldn't leave well enough alone, and now look at me. Stuck in a split… at least I can let things go, unlike Dog or Ryder or Elijah. All of them will perish in this place, however far we go."

"You don't know that. No one sane enough would want to stay here."

"Oh Grace, I thought you were brighter than that. Take a good look at Ryder, how he fought on the way back, how you found him, how he acted. Tell me what you see."

She closed her eyes while still walking forwards. The way he butchered that Ghost Person, he had… The shaky voice, the twitching hand. Hell, she hadn't even asked him how he got that missing eye. Or what that tattoo meant on the other. But still, as long as they had couriered together, he was never like that.

"He… is a bit different." she admitted, almost inaudible.

"Except when?" said Dog.

"Except… when… What're you getting at?"

"The term 'addict' mean anything to you?"

"No." she replied, though Dog waved that off.

"The Old Man suffers the same. Chalky red pills, tempting, can't get enough. Affects humans differently. He'll become the Old Man, Grace. Elijah and Ryder, one in the same. He is Elijah's hand now, with that pip-boy on his arm. But he will _be_ him soon."

"There _is_ no way to know that."

"You'll see soon enough. I'll savour your reaction, should we get that far. It'll bring me and Sierra some well-fought pleasure."

They went forth into a small courtyard, which extended out into a smaller area – the power station. Held back from the street by a firmly shut gate... looking like a cage.

Great.

They opened the gate and saw four switches, on their left side was what appeared to be a set of instructions on how to operate them.

"So," Grace said, "I suppose you won't go in there now that we're here?"

"Do you still believe in your friend? Do you still doubt my… wisdom?"

"I'll make sure we _all_ get through this."

"I'll enjoy that. But no, I'll stay, but you better call me when Ryder finds what he's looking for. I'll help you kill him."

"Your insane."

"I know."

Dog stood before the switches, Grace watched him a while longer before leaving the area.

She went through the alleys as Ryder's pip-boy had shown, remembering clearly where her 'position' was located. She didn't cross many Ghost People, so she had some much too ominous quiet time in the Villa.

Was Dog right?

Time would tell.

She followed the public signage until coming up to a building labelled SECURITY above its door. She entered, and the room was cramped, barely enough space to manoeuvre her body. All that accompanied her was a small terminal on an even smaller desk, a toppled chair, and a message written on the wall.

 _RUN RUN RUN!_

On the door frame was a small intercom, the button on it lit up green after a minute. That Old Man's voice hadn't change a bit – still impatient and possessive.

"Good, good, you're here, hit the key on the keyboard on the top left sideof the keyboard."

She did, the screen came to life, saying ' _Awaiting input…'_

"Now, hit the Y key, looks like a fork, with-"

She had already done it.

"Hmm, you know quite a bit mutant, how?"

"I get around."

"I'm sure you do. Now, we need to give the switching station authorisation. I'll walk you through it…"

About fifteen minutes passed.

"Excellent! We are close, the mute is in position and ready. Wait for the signal Deathclaw, hold there until the show starts, the lock will trip, and that is when you do your part."

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Elijah?"

"…"

"Elijah?"

"What?" he said, harshly.

"What do you get out of this?"

"This is the Heist of the Centuries, so much of history, ripe for the taking, I've come too far to let it all go to waste. So much technology, so much power, it'll save us all."

"But what do _you_ get out of it?"

"Is saving my race, my family, and our future enough to silence you, Deathclaw? Nothing can compare to what lies in the heart of the Sierra, nothing!"

"This place is a grave, how can you save anyone with all… this?"

"You've barely scratched the surface, Deathclaw, there is more to come," she imagined he was clenching his fists, wherever he was. "it's just out of reach."

She didn't respond to that, instead deciding to voice a different topic.

"Is Ryder okay?"

"He's almost at his position, so yes, he is."

She paused, then said, "Is he-"

"Letting greed do the work?"

"W-Well, I meant-"

"What do YOU think, Deathclaw? You know him more than I. Do you think he's a… burden?"

"I-I don't know. It seems..." She trailed off with a clouded mind.

"It seems you're so small and confused, mutant." Elijah finished for her. "Just hit the Y key when the Gala starts, that'll open the gate to the casino, go there quickly."

"Not before I round the rest up."

"Oh I wouldn't bother with them, they'll all be there before you, don't want to linger in the Villa when the show starts, trust me. You know as well as I do that they will _all_ be running as soon as the doors open. Especially the junkie."

"You're wrong."

"I listen, I have eyes and ears everywhere, this place is _mine_. Nothing goes unheard. Your friend… he mumbles about leaving… how the riches can set up his own life forever. 'Escape from the road' he said. And not once has he mentioned _you_. Want to know why? He's out for his own good. I knew this the first time he and you came to this place. Proof? When he woke, he never gave you so much as a second glance. He just did what I told him if it would get him closer to the riches. Heh, you might want to reconsider your choice of friends."

Some of that was undeniably true, but…

"Also, he wasted no time in ditching you to further our heist, didn't he?"

"He may be a bit of a… a letdown. But-"

"But your words are very kind, to me and him."

"What do you mean?"

"The addict. His little wrist-toy? It has ears, Deathclaw, and it's very close. He could choose to eavesdrop if he wanted."

She took a quick breath and said, "Is he?"

"Just hit the key… be ready."

"Wait!"

"…"

A slip of the tongue. She hoped he wasn't listening.

 **6**

He was.

 **7**

Half an hour went by, only the howls of the Ghost's accompanied Grace in that time. But when the Deathclaw heard the ding of a bell and the intercom light up again, she was on her feet with one hand ready on the board.

A clear and posh voice belonging to Domino spoke up. "Helloooo? Strike up the band already!"

This was followed by God, "We're ready, the both of us. I'll keep Dog locked in his cage, just get us into the Sierra Madre."

Ryder said, "And… w-where's the mute woman?"

She head two taps, a sharp one, then a slow, two taps.

"Is that a yes?" Ryder continued.

One tap.

"Alright. And… Grace? You t-there?"

She detected no trace of anything in his voice. No doubt, no hint of nothing, it was plain apart from the stutter.

"Yes, I'm ready as well."

"Okay. Let's do this. On the c-count of three. Three… two-"

"Three… two."

"Dean, I'm doing it."

"Oh, I thought we would all sing it together."

"No, I meant that _I_ would count it d-down."

Two taps.

"I think I'll let Dog out, I grow impatient."

"You idiots just shut up already!" Elijah practically yelled. "I'll do it! Three… two… one!"

A click.

A snap.

A punch.

A switch.

A tick.

And the Gala began.

Fireworks lit up the sky. Music blared all around the Villa, the lights went on, searching the heavens for planes that wouldn't be there. The gate was open, both for the crew, and for the Ghost's.

"Finally." cried Elijah with a gasp of air. "Now the gates will open. And so will the skies."

"Ryder?" Grace asked.

"…"

"Ryder?"

Nothing.

She glimpsed outside into the street. She just saw a faint blue figure dashing to the left street.

With a dozen Ghost People in tow.

She took the message on the wall literally, and ran ran ran!

She took a side alley to the left. Through a maze she went, all of it looking not much different from the last intersection.

A left.

A right.

A right.

A left. She walked right into three Ghost People, one held a small gas can, while the others wielded bear traps as gauntlets. Some distant radio began to make her collar go off.

She took them down in clean swipes – the scythes on her hand showing no mercy. But they were soon replaced with four more! She went to attack again, but Dog rushed up behind her, knocked two of the Ghost People's heads together, and ran off, all the while calling out: "Don't dawdle Grace! To the Madre!"

She followed him. And as she did so, she scanned for anything that wasn't a Ghost. But all she saw was the Villa and its inhabitants.

That was, until she reached the fountain once more. The gate to the casino was now open, and she waited there, for any sign of Ryder, or anyone else.

Not a one.

She waited there, listening to the weird human music pound her hearing.

No one.

Apart from the flutes and drums, it was deathly quiet.

She could bare it no more, even though she had only waited for a few minutes.

She silently mouthed the word _sorry_ , turned, and climbed the hill through the gate. The ascending path was quiet and lonely. The cloud was thick here, and as she drew higher and higher to the Madre, it became almost impossible to breathe. The music soon died out behind her until it was but a memory.

And when she was sure she couldn't see anything past the dense clouds, the Madre met her, its grand golden doors were slightly opened. She entered and slammed them shut behind her.

There, on the first steps, lay Domino, Dog, the woman… and Ryder. Seeing him there…

Just before she was knocked out, the advice given to her to reconsider her friends… crossed her mind.


	13. Chapter 13: We Face Them Head On

**A/N: Just combined the last two chapters into one. Wasn't happy with the lengths of them, and they seemed too easily linked, so… I'll make sure to do at least 5000 words from now on, sound good? Oh, and thanks for the views! :P**

 **We Face Them Head On…**

 **1**

A letdown, was he?

If he is such a burden and a disappointment, then how come he got the Sierra Madre's power back online all on his own? Could a letdown get past the holograms, deactivate the alarms, and bypass security without anyone to help him? Well he did, and the casino welcomed him with open arms. At the farthest room in the back of the casino, past the roulettes and blank blackjack games, Ryder flicked the main power switch, and relished the sound of the invisible wires whirring up to life again.

"You woke it up, good. Emitter frequencies… lighting up everywhere." said the Father through several intercoms around the betting tables, sounding exasperated. "Maybe something can help you now that security is down. When you're done, head back to the lobby, we'll deal with your… 'friends'."

 _Yes… my friends…_

He gambled away with the ghosts. Playing blackjack till he lost all of the golden token things that lay around in the cupboards, drawers and floors. He didn't win anything - he usually didn't like gambling, never got the gist of it the exception being that stupid card game that everyone in VK's was good at – luckily he got a system with that game, but he still hated playing it though.

The holograms would give stiff waves and smiles when he'd run out of Sierra chips. Good thing there was no way of getting lost ones back, or he'd be swallowed up in that casino forever. His mind… it was just about on the brink.

With a final longing glance, Ryder pushed the casino doors open and was back in the lobby, where something like that bunker in the Mojave knocked them out once again. At least he wasn't out in the Villa anymore, he can hear those Ghost's poundings on the door… he hoped the lock would hold.

The Father's voice came back to him, from the walls and collar, sounding as if he was reading something else, something getting most of the Father's attention.

"Wondering what's happened to your team? Looks like they got moved to different floors. Yes… yes… interesting. Perhaps the casino recognised specific guests… or guests with a voice or look close enough for them to be… assigned to that floor. We'll see."

He asked him why _he_ hadn't been moved, but Elijah didn't respond, instead growing impatient.

"Had hoped with the power restored the systems would fully awaken… especially the sound archives. But no… your teammates collars on each floor are interfering with the systems. It's the white noise filters imbedded in their construction… they're blocking the casino speakers, the music."

He asked why music is relevant, but got no direct answer.

"You'll need to destroy each collar. To do that, you need to get close, blow their heads off. I'll leave the method up to you. After all its safe to kill them now, provided you make it quick. You see, the collars don't work inside the Sierra Madre… Else, I'd set off the collars, be done with it. So find them, deal with them, as long as you're fast and can get off the floor after killing them. Just not sure how long, may not be consistent. More… less… whatever, it doesn't matter. What we need is in the basement, we need to go to the top first and ride our fortunes down. After we deal with your team on the other floors."

He scanned the lobby. A curved set of stairs led up to the second floor, where the word THEATER hung above a door on the left side. In the middle was a door marked SUITES, and a small path went further to the right of that. The lower floor he stood upon had the CASINO door, and one marked RESTAURANT at the far back right side.

He climbed the stairs and blocked out the heavy knocks coming from the front door. He didn't enter the theatre, nor did he go to the suites. Instead, he followed the unmarked path to the right side. He put one shaking hand on the balcony fence, helping him along and reinforcing his mind that he _wouldn't_ fall off. Although the idea of plunging to his death sounded nothing like a bad thing at this point.

Live up to his family's expectations, Ryder may have never had a life outside of that until this place grabbed him. Ever since he knelt before Red Lucy so as to continue the family chain. But when she let him have her, and her him, she would let him do anything to her, anything but meeting her lips with his own. Close, yes, but nothing more. ' _No, nothing like that.'_ she had said as she leant her face away. That was the first sign to be done with her, and in fact, Lucy was done with _him,_ wasn't she? That was his only ever purpose to his family, his only purpose was to make descendents, and force _those_ children to make _more_ kids. He hated it.

Though if you asked him if he had parent issues, Ryder would never admit it to anyone.

Ryder needed to grow up. Break free of the family cuffs.

Solution? You know what it is. He just needs _more_ ; quench the unquenchable.

A door, artistic, overdesigned like this whole place, stuck itself around the corner of the balcony way. This one was labelled KENNELS. He went to put his hand on the door, but it opened up before he touched it, revealing a small square room with no exits. He entered. There was nothing inside aside from yet _another_ intercom and a small panel with two buttons with arrows on them. One up and one down.

"Take the lift down and deal with the mutant, she doesn't even want you here, you heard her talking about you before."

(His voice was venomous, cunning, he had fooled Grace and now Ryder was next.)

That's right, how dare she talk about him behind his back! It was like the caravan days all over again, shrunk under the shadow of all the others, that's all he ever was – a disappointment… a letdown. He sulked. It could be seen plain on his face.

He hit the down button. The doors closed and he felt himself and the lift fall slowly. He had no weapons, nothing, only the scars on his arms and the hole in his head – figuratively and literally. The doors parted a moment later.

"To be invited to this place was a sign of… exclusiveness." said Elijah. "Entertainers and stars were invited along to begin again. But back in the old world, some of these… 'people', couldn't let go of their household _pets_." He spat the last word. "So the kennels were made for them, so it is only logical that _your_ pet is somewhere inside. Kill her, and be done with her. It's only an animal, you and I and even the casino know this."

He stepped out, and the lift doors closed behind him. A faint sound bounced off the walls, coming from the end of a long corridor that he found himself in. As he walked through, frames and paintings of small animals lined the sides of his vision. Small dog things, some of them white and fluffy, others skinny and hairless. There were also other small furry creatures with slitted evil eyes and well combed fur (cats). The stench of wet fur was heavy in this place. Two hundred year old odour was hell on his nose.

This part of the Madre was built around the central point of the building – windows weren't in the building plans. Neither were vents, apparently. Maybe a skunk would have trouble bearing with the air in here.

The paintings peered at him from the sides as he walked.

He got to the end of the corridor without incident, and it turned off to the right into a slightly wider path. The sound was louder now, it was endless, sounding the same, like one gunshot after the other. It wasn't the Ghost People's howls, no, this sounded so much louder.

Down the hall he went, until he reached the end again.

One door, no label, only the handle. Whatever the noise was, it was right behind the door. It sounded like something that didn't need to breathe to keep itself going.

He put an ear to the door and tried to listen for anything else. Nothing. Only the cries of that sound, something like a throaty ' _ARF!'._ It vibrated his ear just listening to it, he took a step back, took a moment to prepare, and slowly – ever so slowly – opened the door.

The moment a sliver of the inside showed itself, the sound pounded him like a heavy punch to the face.

 _ **ARF!**_

 _ **RARF!**_

 _ **BARR!**_

He closed the door and rubbed his temples, it took him by such shock that his heart skipped a beat. The door somehow died down the sounds coming from within, but he still heard growling and knew that whatever it was, it wasn't friendly. Yet there was no banging on the door, surely something like that would've happened by now? Maybe it was restrained.

Steeling himself, he tried opening the door again. The sound was deafening, but he shook his head and opened the door till it slammed against the wall.

On the left and right, leaving a two meter wide gap to walk in, were rows upon rows of cages, somewhat like cubicles in restrooms, yet almost like prison cells as well. The ground was tiled, grey and worn like his old boots. The ceiling was uncomfortably low and littered with webs, home to mutated twelve-legged monstrosities that looked at him with ten eyes. Too close, he could touch them if he tried.

His head shook under that horrible barking assault on his hearing. There were perhaps fifty cages, half on each side of the walkway. He looked in the first cell on the left to find out what in the hell could make such a ruckus.

Inside, teeth bared, was a large dog with its ears directly upright. It was blue – all over, and slightly transparent.

It was in fact, a hologram.

But its voice was that of explosions.

 _ **ARF! ARF! ARF!**_ it barked without end.

Ryder could see two cameras on the doorframes top corners. They weren't cameras per say, but merely projectors that were lit up the same colour as the dog was. He reached a hand up to one and tried to pull it off the wall. Didn't work. He tried punching it but only bruised his knuckles.

He wasted too much time on these things, his ears were going numb under the dogs unending attack. He passed the dogs cage, deeper into the kennels. But in every single cage, the exact same dog would be there to greet him with a much to familiar welcome of an _**ARF**_ or _**BARR**_.

Loud, oh so loud, so close, feeling like a headset was taped onto him. He cupped his ears as he picked up his pace. The combined force of fifty holograms stopped him from hearing himself think. He started to run, not daring to move his hands from his ears lest he fall to deafness.

It didn't let up one bit when he reached the back of the kennel. The dogs would put themselves up against the closed cage doors, yet the wiring wouldn't rattle. Luckily, or it would've been unbearable (if it wasn't already, at this point).

The end split off into two more bigger rooms, left and right. One looked more suitable for humans, with desks, cabinets and such, maybe an office?

The other simply held larger and increasingly more ominous cages. The barking was stronger there, and Ryder wanted nothing to do with it. But just before he had turned away from it, a glimpse at the furthest cage forced him to look back at it.

The beast inside it was no dog.

Ignoring the rumblings inside his head, Ryder pressed on towards it, still flanked on all sides by annoying dog barks that had started to physically hurt him now. A small drop of red trickled out of his right ear, but he failed to notice it yet.

He came up to the cage and pressed his hands to the barred gate. Peering into the darkness (Why was this cage not lit up?), he made out a large shadowy figure hunched in the closest left corner of the cage. It was so close, yet, when he reached out to it, it was just out of reach, no matter how far he stretched.

She still had that collar on her neck, it was beeping slowly, as if taking care not to wake the beast up.

He called to her in a low voice. But then he remembered the dogs full-mouthed insults. How could he forget them? His hearing was falling fast now. And he couldn't even hear his own words come out of his mouth.

He called her name, over and over. And still she lay there. The cage had an unusually large padlock, so shiny and new that its side was hard to look at. The other cages had similar locks, but of an older and smaller design.

The dogs thunders crashed in his mind, he had to find a key or something. He turned back and ran for the office, slamming its door behind him. It muffled the sounds, but not as well as the main door did, but at least he could hear himself think again.

His head was at a constant ring, and he clutched his head with one hand while scanning the room. The only thing of interest was a small terminal on a desk, logged on and ready to be used, despite the age of this place.

He sat on the wheeled chair and read the green-tinted screen, trying to ignore the pealing dogs howls, ripping apart his mentality.

 _Sierra Madre Kennel Network_

 _These fucking dogs!_

 _RE: These fucking dogs!_

 _RE: RE: These fucking dogs!_

 _Specific Cage Opening_

 _Open Kennel Cages_

That last entry was a horrible idea, to let all these things out was absurd – hologram or not, he refused to do it – but it would open Grace's cage as well. But it didn't matter even if he was stupid enough to do it, the last two entries didn't even open, they simply read out a stock response error, and encouraged him to seek assistance from administration.

He decided to open up the first.

 _These fucking dogs!_

 _Mark, I know I promised you I'd take your Kennel shift, but come on man! This place is so narrow that the barking is louder than it should be! (Is this why you have trouble hearing sometimes?) The mufflers in my door are barely even working that I have to stay in the freezer to calm the fires in my head! It's cold in there, so cold, you gotta come down and take this shit back man, I can't go on like this. I can't get close enough to use the sedates on them, these privileged seedy cunts upstairs have massive Doberman's that stare into my soul, man!_

Ryder hit the side of his head softly, as if getting a drop of water that was stuck in his head out. He opened the reply.

 _RE: These fucking dogs!_

 _Don't worry dude, you get used to it eventually. But you should try the sedates on yourself. Don't worry! There is a method to my madness! Just a little bit into your arm helps with the sound, just make sure you get some of the antidote into you, or else you'll look like a dog, lol! I know it sounds crazy, so I'll send down a pack of some more 'stuff'. Get a bit high like a kite, you'll be out before you know it._

A small wet liquid drop trickled down his jaw, he put a finger there and examined his hand. Blood. He opened the final message.

 _RE: RE: These fucking dogs!_

 _I guess 'stuff' really does solve all your problems. I got your package, I'll hide them around the office so no one reports me to old Sinclair. He's insane, why even make a kennel without any windows! It REEKS in here! I'm never coming back here after today Mark, you're on your own._

Ryder knew all too well what the 'stuff' was. He sat up and poured over every single thing in the office. Every nook and cranny was searched twice over, after a good few minutes, the office looked like a bear had torn through it.

He found seven bobby pins and a small steak knife.

Also a dose of Jet.

One Psycho.

And a handful of Buffout.

But, when he searched the last drawer in the terminal desk, a small cardboard box presented itself in its own little space.

Mentats, the quenchers.

But there was only one left.

Less than that actually, there was a small bite out of it, not human teeth, no, maybe a dogs? There was barely half of it left, and god knows how old any of these chems were.

He stuffed these things into his jumpsuit. And went to the far wall. Where a large metallic door dominated the space. He could feel the cold seeping into him as he opened it up. The sound of whirring air coolants could be heard, along with a constant whooshing sound from the inner roof. He entered but left the door open, because the cold… it wasn't much better than the barking!

There was nothing in the freezer, nothing besides a load of shelves lining the furthest wall, which was about twenty meters back

 _Great, just HAD to be as far away as possible._

He crossed his arms and made his way to the shelves. Instead of his hands and arms shaking from withdrawal, his whole body was chilled to the bone within a minute in the freezer. But the man on the terminal was right, the barking was dead in here.

The small shelves had all manner of names, some of which he was unaffiliated with – dog medicine was low on his priorities. Though he found the two drawers he was looking for – the antidote and sedater needles, one green, one blue. He took three of each and gladly exited the freezer, making sure to shut it behind him.

He was freezing and shaking violently, and decided that now would be a good time to test 'Mark's' theory.

He held the moderately sized syringes in his hands. But, which one was the sedate? They weren't labelled… but the freezer drawers were…

"Screw it." he said, and injected a blue needle into his arm while stuffing the rest away into his already packed pockets. He injected about half, and felt _very_ drowsy.

But at least he stopped shaking. AND guessed correctly.

Like those Ghosts knocking on the lobby door, the endless echoes of the rowdy dogs hadn't let up, and the other side of that muffled door put Ryder off a lot.

But, if it would get him closer…

He wiped his brow and put the rest of the sedate into his arm, chucking away the empty needle and stumbling his way through the door back into the kennels. The thundering of the canines throats were but mumbles to him.

With lazy eyes and steady hands, Ryder dragged his feet back to Grace's cage. He walked almost like those Ghost People did – without purpose, in a dead-like state. His vision blurred every now and then but he kept going.

He crouched before the thick padlock on the beasts cell and held a bobby pin in one hand, knife in the other. He began his (one of few fields of skill) work on the small keyhole. After a minute, he had the lock halfway through its unlocking cycle, but the shakes were coming back, and before he had known it, the pin had snapped in half in an unsatisfactory way.

Not only that, but the dogs had found their voices in his mind again. He left the knife stuck in the lock and injected another whole dose of sedate into the vein in his arm. He sighed, drowned out the noise, and continued his work.

This sedate wouldn't last long. He was human, obviously, not a dog (although that could be debated).

He had injected the whole set of sedate, simply to delay the shakes. But that was all it did, delay. He picked the lock with three more bobby pins, and was rewarded with three broken pins after his hands failed him and shook crazily; more violently the more the sedate wore off.

But the fluids still flowed within him like steady rivers down the Colorado.

 _ **ARF! ARF! ARF!**_ came the animals cries, somehow louder now that the sedates had finished with him.

 _Just a little more…_

The shaking with the barking combined into the ultimate mentally thrashing machine. His head was in loops, and one moment he would have the lock opened, the next it would grow twice its original size. He inhaled the Jet but that didn't do anything, he was in so much of a panicked state that it couldn't calm him down. Even as his arm (which held a few small deep holes from the other syringes, making thin lines of red stream down) swallowed up the drugs like the sun on water.

There was no going back, he had to get this thing open _now_.

Bark.

Pick.

Bark.

Pick.

Bark and pick and pick and bark.

He couldn't do it, no, not on his own. He relied too heavily on chems, he downed the Buffout like it was a handful of dry rice. He smacked his hand to his lips, then to his head. _Work with me!_ he ordered his brain and remaining eyeball, which was now permanently half clenched in concentration.

 _SNAP!_ went the bobby.

 _I'm not good enough_.

 _FT!_ went the lock, back into its rightful place.

 _I'll never get what I want._

His eye was watery, he could fight it no longer, through overdosing and the pounding barks he had no choice but to cover the sides of his head with his hands.

Hopeless. He had one job and botched it completely.

He squatted there, dogs on his sides, calling endlessly to themselves. His whole body was shaking under invisible restraints. He had broken all except one pin, and it clanged to the ground along with the knife and…

And the last _tat_.

The last hope for himself was a fucking drug.

No second doubts, he downed it, no water needed. And it seemed that just for a moment, his hands went from shaking like a kid in a tantrum to merely a stable shimmer or ripple.

 _No._

…

 _I'm NOT a letdown._

He clenched his fists and rose to his feet, picking up the lockpicking tools as he did so. He returned to the lock and gave all he had to it. For one horrible moment he thought the pin would snap in half like his dignity, it was bending hard, and he was almost there…

But his thoughts were right.

It snapped.

He was about to snap _himself_ , but the meaty lock tumbled to the floor. And with a spring in his step and a _buzz_ much too large for anyone, he went inside and to the beast's side.

"Grace!" he coughed, spitting way too much saliva. He realised a moment later of his speech impairment, so he tried again.

It sounded just like he had when he awoke in Goodsprings, hoarse, throaty, constricted by a cough that couldn't be cleared.

"Grace!" he said, sounding as disgusting as the stench. She didn't move.

 _The antidote you fool!_

Was that the Mentats speaking? Whatever, he pulled out the green needles in one go, but dropped them all. But as he picked them up, he realised he didn't even hear them cling on the ground.

Because the only thing he could here anymore was these fucking dogs.

He fumbled a syringe and placed it into the sleeping Deathclaws curled up arm. He injected it all, having faith this old-ass medicine would do the job.

She merely curled up tighter.

He said, "Wake up!" but couldn't be sure what it sounded like anymore. Ryder was 'high as a kite', but wasn't strong enough to lift up the Deathclaw.

Wasn't strong enough.

But he was _not_ a letdown.

He injected the second dose of antidote into her. He was now deaf, and was somewhat glad to be, the howling and barking was filtering out, going in one ear, coming out the other.

Still not waking up.

 _How much sedate did they put in you, Grace?_

He heeded the warning on the terminal: ' _Make sure you get some of the antidote into you, or else you'll look like a dog lol!'_ The LOL part was unknown, but surely looking like a dog is exaggerating, right? Could he hold on and keep on top of this sedate? He technically wasn't a dog, and maybe it would let him go after a while.

"I'll… I'll be right."

He gave her the last dose of antidote. Hopefully… _hopefully_ , she would wake. He was uncomfortably numb as he sat up against her side and waited, arms crossing himself to make his body as small as possible.

At least his body wasn't in pain.

The same can't be said for his head.

…

So there he waited. Only his thoughts to accompany his shakes.

This one time as a child, he caught this fever out near one of the Legions cities. It went away after a day but, what was weird was that his hands had felt like balloons. He felt like that now, and was both cold and terrified at the same time as he waited in that cage for his friend to wake up. The fever was odd but otherwise harmless, he knew as much.

 _Maybe it was some crazy-inducing disease and its finally caught up to me._

To bring himself closure, he moved his hand to the cage door and closed it. Now the outside world wouldn't hurt him, he was safe in here.

Safe.

Alone.

Shaking.

But he would wait.

 **2**

Sitting there tucked away from the world, the one named Ryder looked pathetic and he knew this.

But finally, after a long hour, _she_ stirred.

He went to a crouch and put his hands on her back and neck. She moved her mouth but he heard not what she said. He yelled something along the lines of 'We have to get out!' and pulled her to her feet. It took an effort on both their parts, but she was eventually hunched over but on her legs.

He put an arm over her and they limped back to the main halls of the kennels. As fast as they could they hurried on to the lift without looking at the dogs any longer, nor the skeletons of their former selves that lay scattered inside them. Ryder hit the up arrow button and collapsed on the left side, while Grace fell to the other.

 _Finally_ , he thought, feeling his eyelids go heavy, but he fought the urge to sleep, definitely looking like an asylum patient, as his fingers failed to unclench themselves from his palms. There the Deathclaw lay, still talking, but he wasn't… couldn't… listen to anything. She wasn't looking at him, but found that her hands were more interesting then he was. She looked in pain, and he went to stand but fell on his ass as the lift stopped and opened its doors.

Maybe a rest in the casino could-

Elijah's voice sounded off-

(He was commanding him to end the Deathclaw)

-but what caught his attention was the main lobby doors down below the balcony; they were open. And climbing the steps were two Ghost People, one holding a spear, one a bear trap gauntlet. The one with the spear jumped the balcony and cut Ryder off at the choke between him and the stairs.

No way he was going back to the kennels.

No way he'd make that jump.

No way he'd kill these things with his hands.

But he HAD to fight. Grace was out of the question, as he gave her a glance to see she was having trouble even standing on her own.

No time to help, spear Ghost was upon him, and the bear trap one wasn't too far off either. So in the last moments, he put the Psycho to his neck and found some temporary new strength. (The Psycho was smacked in too hard and his body tried to reject it – the bruise wouldn't go away, and he wouldn't realise it until it would be too late.)

The shaking man raised his fists, the spear was at his eye level. He swung high and wide but the spear cut his arms open in long gashes. It was hell to see his body in this state, but he _tried_ to ignore it.

The thing in the suit made him dance about in order to avoid those bloody blades.

The balcony's edge was very close behind him now.

Ryder continued to retreat, the thing in the suit continued to advance.

Each punch was countered by blades, soon his arms were weak and tender and bleeding dangerously.

Ryder bent over backwards across the safety fence, but when he went to bounce back the suited thing had already helped him do that. Ryder was pulled to his feet, the collar was almost torn completely off… he heard the sound of crunching metal and beeps.

It pulled him right into its face while stealing the air from his throat. Those giant hollow eyes stood against all he had done to come this far.

The knife –lost and forgotten like others before it – found its place in Ryder's hand and into one of those acidic eyeballs.

He plunged deep into the eye, then moved on to the tubes and mask, slicing away with all he had left in himself. Green fleshy puss vomited forth from the head and neck. Its arm went slack and he heightened at the feeling of fresh air coming back to him.

It fell into a pile of bile and he took its spear to replace his knife.

Bear trapped hand was there in front of him, Ryder was ready for round two. But he knew and accepted the fact that he wouldn't win this. Not like this, without an eye, shaking like a madman, deaf and drugged and freezing his balls off. But he wouldn't go down without a fight, and when he did, no one will remember him as a letdown after this, after all that's effecting him no lesser man would keep going. But he would. HE would. Not because someone told him to, not because he was asked to, but because he HAD to.

For himself.

He knew his arm would be chomped by those old-world teeth if he swung, but he had nothing else to do but just to delay it as long as he could.

The bear trapper countered with Ryder.

And he blocked it. Thrusting with all his might at the things legs.

It jumped and swung down, Ryder felt his head spin and reeled back just in time to avoid the teeth clamping down the air in front of him.

Unlike its assailant, this thing wanted Ryder on the ground rather than up high. He kicked and flailed but only managed to keep the trap an inch higher than his face.

Legs were pinned, and his strength was failing him fast. He pounded its face until his knuckles went red but that did little. Down, down, down came the teeth, he could faintly see his reflection in them – the face of a frightened man but he didn't feel that way.

Maybe Grace would get out of here, and his death would give her that opportunity to get out of here and _begin again._

So he closed his eyes and waited.

He heard the ripping of his flesh… he _heard_ it?

The _heard_ spurting blood, like water out of a damaged hose. He could see it in his head now, his nose and skin slowly being peeled off…

Funny, he always thought death would be painless… guess he was right about something for once.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

He eventually opened his eyes to see a pair of beastly ones looking down on him. He didn't react in the slightest, he just laid there, internally and externally shaking. And she did nothing either.

Eventually he shook his head at all that he had just done, and that he was still breathing.

"Grace…"

She gave him that look that said, _I know what you're about to say but I don't care._

"Can you… can you help me up?" he asked, feeling his knees grow even weaker.

"Sure. We'll get whatever's at the heart of this place together then, yes?"

She didn't bother hiding the sarcasm.

"Grace…"

"You agreed we would come here together!"

"I-I know! I was at the doors waiting for you!"

"Don't lie to me, I saw you passed out on the floor over there!" She pointed a finger to the main door, which was still open.

As he got up he thought Grace might keep him back, but she didn't. He went down the stairs (bypassing the mangled corpse of the trapper) and quickly shut the main door, keeping both the cloud and the Ghost People outside for good.

The young Deathclaw eyed the young man from halfway down the stairs, he turned to her and tried to find words to explain himself – he couldn't for a few seconds, but Grace simply gave him that waiting look until he did.

"You… you don't understand. I… I couldn't stay in the Villa, the Ghost's… they were on to me the moment the Gala started! I couldn't stay, I would if I could have! I thought you were in here before me!"

"Unlike you," she said sourly. "I kept my promise and waited."

"B-But, you're _here_ , so…"

"Are you trying to turn this on me?"

"What? No! No I just… Look, I'm sorry. I was stupid, okay? It was a mistake and… and I should've waited for you. I just..."

He trailed off into silence from there. He found the floor more interesting to look at all of a sudden. So he didn't notice Grace approaching him until her scythe-shaped nails entered his vision.

"Ryder." she said, making him look up at her, after a long silence she knelt ever so slightly down to meet his level, judging him hard. "What're you not telling me?"

He hesitated.

"It's just… without Mentats… I get a bit uh, a bit out there."

She gave him a questioning look, but replied nonetheless.

"Your voice… you're not stuttering… at least not like before."

"Yeah I… found one in the kennel."

"Ken-nel?" she said, tasting the word.

"It's not important. It's just… if I don't get them regularly - it's sort of like that Dog guy, but in a more… junkie way."

"There's that word again, 'junkie'." she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He walked away a few steps, not quite past her but far enough. He scanned the remaining doors for a moment before meeting Grace's eyes.

"We just have to find the others and disable their collars, then we can-"

"And that includes silencing yours, Grace." Came the grumbling Old Man's voice from the walls. "Although you are off of the floor, your still interfering with our progress to the vault. So… do it, break my hand on your throat, Deathclaw."

She looked at Ryder, who shrugged. She put her hands to the collar and tugged as hard as she could.

It broke.

She was free.

"Now's your chance, go!" Elijah encouraged. "Go and be free, enjoy what little time you have with the rest of your kind."

"Your… serious?" she said.

"Always am. Now go, get out of my sight and back to the fountain. There the gate to the Mojave awaits you."

She dropped the collar and looked to the door, then to Ryder. He gave a small shrug but that was all.

The idea was certainly tempting. But freedom for herself didn't seem fair at all. It was everyone out, or no one. She didn't do it. Instead, she put her hands to his throat and pried off the collar (taking care not to cut him up_. But it only creaked once before it began to make harsh beeps at the both of them.

"No you don't." Elijah growled. "Yours may not work but _his_ does. Go any further and his face will be history!"

She let him go with reluctance, Ryder said, "I thought you said the collars don't work."

"Call yourself lucky, yours is working with me, even on its final legs. Can't let you go when the vault is still closed. You've come so far, we're almost there."

"Grace," Ryder said, getting her attention. "you should go. Get out while you can."

She stood there for a long while, and when he thought she wouldn't even answer him she came to his side, shook her head and flicked one of her massive fingers to his shoulder and said,

"We are _all_ getting out of this."

"Are… Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't you do it if you were in my position?"

He gave her the obvious answer – yes – but deep down he wasn't a hundred percent behind the answer. Dean had told him how valuable the Sierra vault's contents were and Ryder believed him. If such a thing was _this_ close, he had to take it now before it slipped away forever.

Elijah continued, "Now, if you're going to stay, make yourself useful and kill the others. The junkie can explain why – I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Well, heh, I kinda don't really know why… But! I will!"

"Good. Off you go then."

Silence. Then, the two of them headed for the RESTRAUNT labelled door, where Dog and God were fighting a battle of the minds.

But just before Ryder could open the door, a call from the Deathclaw got him to stop and listen.

"Your arms."

He realised his sleeves were rolled to the elbows and quickly put them back.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"What did you do?"

"What I had to."

He pushed the doors open, and the subject was dropped just like that.


	14. Chapter 14: We Dont Leave Unscathed

… **We Dont Leave Unscathed  
**

 **1**

Dog had found some way to relieve God of their bodies control. _They_ had been moved to the kitchen, perhaps because he had eaten someone who used to be a chef at this place before the bombs dropped, or maybe being beefy-looking stereotyped him enough to pass as a cook who eats his own food way too much.

They would argue, one voice with two agendas. One to end it, one to save it. Dog had had enough, ('Who wouldn't?' Grace thought.) and had twisted the tubes on the kitchen walls and under the floors until they broke, filling the room with flammable gas. No way to shut them off. A great risk (if you could call it that) was that if it was set off by say, a match, then the whole casino would burn. If it did, the world _would_ be a better place, no doubt about it. But they would all go down with it. This would've been simply an inconvenience, had Dog not found a matchbox and was currently fighting God to bring it forward to strike. The mutant worked its way across the kitchen, kicking aside the pots and pans that were in his way. Mumbling all the while.

Near him stood four huge ovens all neatly together. The third was on, a shimmer of heat coming from it. Behind the first peaked a Deathclaw and a human, one above the other. The mutant hadn't noticed them sneak in.

"You weren't wrong when you said you're like him." Grace whispered.

"Huh?"

"Way back when. Before you… died. You talked to yourself sometimes."

"Hmm, maybe I was… Oh well, call me Round the Bend Ryder, you wouldn't be the first."

"Okay 'Rounder', I think-"

"No, you are _not_ calling me that."

"But you just said…"

"I just...! Let's just forget the whooole thing, okay?."

"But why even bring it up?"

"You started it!"

"I did not."

"You did!"

"How?"

"You spoke first! AND! You-"

Their quick paced back-and-forth argument was interrupted by a presence, they turned as one to face Dog/God, who had no trouble in overhearing them and walking over to investigate. He hunched over them, somehow bringing his body into a pose of both sulking and uncontrollable anger.

"Dog… Dog is tired of talk." said Dog. "No more, now it ends."

Dog went to strike the match. The duo leapt from the oven not a moment later. They grasped one arm each and held on for dear life. Dog did a huge twirl, yelling "Arrrgghhh!" as he put his arms out to resemble a Jesus post cross. He lifted _both_ of them off the ground, but only Grace kept her grip.

Ryder went flying (yelling as well) and his back met an oven door. He grunted and slowly slid down to his ass. It hurt, but, the oven warmed his back slightly, sending the shivers away for a few relieving seconds.

He screwed his face up when he felt something small in his hands grip. It was the match, he must've pried it away just in time. But it was an omen – Dog was charging him with a sneer painting his features, with a Deathclaw not too far behind him.

He went wide eyed and dashed to his stronger side – the right. Just in time to avoid (and see) Dog smash his head into the oven glass window and stick himself there. Grace avoided such a fate by letting go at the last moment.

Dog wasn't stuck – despite their hopes – but was no longer aggressive. He turned and sat down, leaning against the oven with a pained and slightly burning expression. His arms were slumped like he'd given up – relatable. Dog made no move from that, sitting there before the Deathclaw and human. Instead, he finally said his first words to either of them… soft, tired, not like God's at all (hard, angry).

He looked at Ryder.

"You… Master? No, not Master. Dog remembers you. Kind to Dog, didn't want other voice to…"

He looked at Grace.

"You? Remember you… Left Dog IN cage. Mean to Dog… now, Dog…"

God's voice interrupted.

"… Will kill us both unless you do something. He won't listen to my voice anymore. He's…"

Dog again, vocals switching like a slideshow.

"… Hungry. Come here, or Dog will chase you." Dog went to stand but Ryder put his arms out in an attempt to calm the super duper mutant down.

"Wait Dog!" said Ryder. "If you do that… uh, Master will be mad?" he half said, half questioned the last bit. He remembered what God told them back in the Villa, and wondered if it would work.

It did.

"Master? W-What does Master want Dog to do?"

"Uh, he… he wants you to listen to me. To my voice."

"You?" Dog asked, a bit hesitant. "You are… Master?"

"Yes, I am Master."

Grace flinched at this but it went unnoticed.

"Dog… Dog is listening."

God now.

"We both are. Tell him to listen to my voice. Then we can finally… be free."

"Dog is listening." he repeated.

The fate of not one but two people were in his hands now. Four people were in that kitchen but only three would walk out of it. He wanted someone to help him decide what to do but his voice was all that the mutant would listen to.

But, isn't this what he was always after? A chance to live his own life, not to seek out others to guide him? Perhaps _fate_ had answered him and given him the one thing he always wanted. To make your own life, or in this case, to determine another's. He didn't expect the destination to be like this, in some burning casino in a City of Dead. He thought it would be more… well, anything other than this.

Was there a word for wanting something, but ending up hating it when you get it?

 _Yep,_ he thought, _it's called life…_

Life was full of shit. _Is_ shit. Maybe if he had been born before the fallout like Verl he would've turned out alright. Everything would've been alright. Life wouldn't just be like shovelling a Brahmins shit, or getting yourself jacked up on drugs because you thought it would make you better to be around. He imagined this place before the war, before everything. A blue sky, bustling streets with people giving endless smiles to one another.

You can't bring it back. The world has moved on. You either move with it or die trying. And if moving on involved helping a super-infected mutant overcome its twin-personalities, AND having a talking iguana as a pet-but-turned-sentient friend? Then by God life must've took a turn at some point and said, _'Hey! Fuck everything!'_

Well, it certainly beats walking with two parents clawing at your back twenty-four-seven, three sixty five, until death took you.

Ryder had gotten so looped up in his head, that he didn't even realise he had given the mutant an answer, and had chosen the fate of the one called Dog and God without even paying attention.

The saying 'easier said than done' seemed to have no power here.

 **2**

They were back in the lobby, three of them, ten minutes later.

"Thank you." said the super mutant to Ryder. "Just… thank you."

"Is he gone for good then?"

"Yes… he is."

Elijah once more told them that to destroy the mutants collar they had to kill him. But none of them listened.

"I'll go get Dean. You two wait here." Ryder said. "I'll put it blandly, he hates you Grace, like… hates you _a lot_."

"What did I do?"

He shook his head. "Dunno, but, I learned that he's got quite the ego. I guess taking command was a start."

She gave a much too harsh comment about the ghoul that deserved no place in anyone's ear, of course she botched a few words with her accent, but this got Ryder to give a nod of appreciation (even the mutant was a bit shocked).

He disappeared past the theatre door, putting a hand to his mouth and calling out, "I'll be right with you's."

Despite Ryder's past behaviour. He did return with Dean in a matter of minutes without a single scratch beside those he got in the kennel. Ryder wouldn't tell Grace what he had done and learned until much later. But he did tell her that Dean was so much darker on the inside; he was a despicable man.

They had a good chat about how Dean was to take all of the Sierra's treasure with the help of a certain young bald woman.

"I put her in the Clinic, tuned her like an instrument. If she heals up it's not going to be her voice speaking any more."

Dean wanted a backup plan, have as many options open as possible. He knew if he had enough time and access to the casino, he could piece together a good facsimile of the owner of the casino's love interest – Vera Keyes (which Elijah also wants to do). But what's better than a replica? The _real_ thing. And that's what Dean did to the mute woman when she was captured and brought here. Into an Auto-Doc she went, surgery to change the voice for his own personal gain.

"But why do that? What's so great about a voice?" Ryder had asked.

It was because the only way to get into the vault is through a special elevator that only opens to Vera's voice up in the executive suite. There is no other way and Dean was sure about that. Sinclair built this place for his only love: Vera, and when she and Dean planned to rob him senseless, the bombs dropped, the casino locked up tight, and sent an emergency signal out to the world, pleading for help. Dean has been here ever since.

Two hundred years of cloud, Ghosts, and the touch of freedom just out of his reach.

Out of everyone, Dean was the worst off of all of them. Heisting before Elijah, before Ryder, or anyone.

Dean _was_ a rich man, no doubt about it. But he wasn't out for the treasure, no, he was out for revenge on Sinclair. But Sinclair had done nothing to Dean but boast about his wealth, something Ryder could never understand. "He thinks he's better than me. And now? Now he's ruined!" Dean said, all snake-like. But all he got out of it was two people lives ruined and trapping himself in his rivals creation. The ultimate irony. Seeing all that wealth from down in the Villa.

Some would say he deserved it. But with renowned caution, Ryder simply nodded and sympathised, and took Dean to the lobby. Dean acted all posh-like, as if he had never told Ryder this in the first place, just so no one would think of him differently.

"So, now that you have us four all together, wedded by our collars, what's your plan now?" Dean asked – hiding that conversation behind those tinted sunglasses.

"If what you say is true, and the mute is still alive, we can get to the vault before Elijah can." Ryder replied.

"Cheerio, but I'm afraid I can't go down there with you… believe me I'd love to kill the collar man. But! But! I think I can hit that old guy where it hurts."

"How so?"

"Using my favourite weapon of course! Music. If there's any speakers and radios down there… they won't set your collar off."

"I'm not sure I can do anything." said the mutant. "I feel… so hungry… so… empty."

"That's fine," said Grace. "You should leave this place as soon as we're done."

"Thank you… Ryder. Thank you, Grace. I won't forget this."

Grace smiled. "You're welcome, God."

"Hold on you three! We have to kill the Old Man first before we think about beginning again. I'll see what I can do from here. You must hurry before the mute slips away or… or loses her patience."

"Your right Dean." Ryder said. "C'mon Grace. Let's go."

With a final goodbye, they left for the suites.

 **3**

They emerged from the elevator to hear a beautiful voice belonging to a different body, it rang throughout the floor, for all to hear.

"This is Christine… recovered. In an Old World hotel room, high class, two rooms – exit's sealed. Security's activated. Not latest tech… it seems primitive. Familiar."

"So that's her name." Ryder told himself.

They found something disturbing on that floor. As they walked around they heard a voice that sounds just like Christine's, what they just heard. Only it is not Christine's voice, its Vera's. So that means it must be Vera Keyes _herself_ talking! But as they delved deeper and explored more and more of the suites, they came across a starlet hologram – the same one on the fountain.

The hologram of Vera Keyes (still quite a looker). They can hear her as she paced every room – she sounds frightened.

"I'm going to die here, amongst the ghosts. I'm still being recorded by the holographic system. I came so far to be here, now… now I just want to leave. Let go? Let go of what? Sinclair? Where did you go? Why did you leave me here? Sinclair? Sinclair?! I'm trapped, security won't let me go. Why? _Why?!_ "

When the bombs dropped, security locked up tight, shutting down everything, trapping all the guests… including Vera… in their rooms. While the guests were dying, from cloud, from radiation, from starvation or holograms. The defence system recorded them, Vera said as much. What Grace and Ryder heard was the last words Vera Keyes ever spoke. Now, instead of looking like security, the holograms all now look and sound like the last person it ever encountered – a dying and scared lover, moments before she died.

They weren't facing Vera.

They were facing her ghost.

So twisted, and whenever the holographic Vera saw the Deathclaw or the human sneaking about. She would raise her hands to her head – all creepy like – and shoot thick beams of light at them that melted all it touched.

The holograms, things designed to protect them, the things that slaughtered all the guests, now wore their faces, and use their voices.

It was a tough, long task. Sneaking about from room to room to avoid Vera's ghost. Hallways of cloud, blocked doorways, traps for the unprepared. But at last the duo had found their way safely to a set of double doors. Inside it was clear that this was the master suite. Mini bar, lots of furniture, a terminal and door on the rear wall, and a closed door on the left side.

Christine's voice was behind that door. Though this one was no hologram. She was testing her throat after a long vow of silence – singing poems, recalling names, that sort of thing.

The door was locked, Ryder knocked instead and out she came, wearing armour now, the scars on her face still as fresh as ever.

"You made it, good. I'll keep this quick in case my… voice goes out."

"Hmm, you sound just like Vera." Ryder said.

"Do I? Feels off to my ears, maybe that's why I got moved here… to this suite. Its hers. That's her over there." She points to the bed behind her, where a skeleton lay to rest. "Looks like she took a different way out."

Freakily, the skeleton had its sockets pointed right at the doorway, where they stood. _Why did you leave me here!?_ was what that gaping… screaming skull said to them.

"So, back at the fountain, you were trying to say something, what was it?" Grace asked.

"I've been hunting Elijah for some time. What he's done here is nothing compared to what he's done in the past."

"How long have you been hunting him?" Grace continued.

"Too long. I had a chance to settle it before this 'event' happened, but he always slips away. I've got orders to kill him, I believe in them."

"Sounds personal."

"I had to find a new purpose after he cut me off from someone I care about. He became unstable, left a trail of crimes across the wasteland. Once word reached us, I was ordered to kill him."

"So you've met him before."

"Yes, before the scars, at a place far from here, where he found some of the tech he uses now. 'Big Empty' it's called. Nearly got trapped there. There was someone else, though, who came along. Knew about Elijah."

"Who?" Ryder put in.

"No idea. A caravaner. Well, formerly I think. He pulled me out there, told me where Elijah had gone. Helped me… Sympathised. Understood what it meant to track someone who had such a… impact on his past life. He was hunting for someone… some caravaner."

Behind her a bench with a few metallic arms holding scissors and razors and other surgical equipment could be seen. Ryder asked if it worked and she said it did. It was about chest-high, he put one bloody arm on it and the Auto-Doc recognised the wounds and began healing him up in a series of quick sweeps and swipes.

Grace came up to Christine's side, pointed at the Doc-thing , and said, "Can that thing heal your scars?"

Solemnly, the bald woman replied, "No… they run a lot deeper than that. Never had good history with machines. Got trapped in a medical station in the Big Empty – Elijah's doing – messed with my head, got off lucky though. Other patients there are worse off. Old self is gone… now I have a new voice, another thing Elijah has to pay for."

"He didn't put you in it, Dean did." Ryder commented, making her spin to face him.

"What? Dean Domino? Why would he do that?"

"The elevator responds to only Vera, he wanted you to use the audio-lock. It's like a key…"

"A key to the vault," she finished for him. "of course. Hmm, I've done much worse, for more hopeless causes, and I will again."

Ryder swapped his other arm onto the bench.

"That door leads to the elevator." Christine said, pointing to the one with the terminal. "I'll unlock it when you're ready."

Grace searched the room but came up empty handed. No weapons or anything. They may just have to outwit Elijah, if such a thing was possible. She went up to the Auto-Doc when Ryder waved her over.

"Grace, you know how I was… acting, before? In the Villa?"

She nods.

"Well, I may be like that again." An odd tool sewed up a tag of skin near his elbow, he looked pained but continued anyway. "Just give me a good punch if I try anything."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I can take it."

"You _want_ me to hit you?"

"Sure."

"By D'law your strange."

"Yeah, I know."

They held a smile to one another before the machine was done and moved no more. Christine hung back and waited (and watched) before producing a key from her pocket and unlocking the door on the rear wall.

"You… wouldn't happen to have a gun or anything, Christine?" Ryder asked.

"Afraid not, though I have no doubt the vault will have one. If not, I'll see what I can do up here, maybe turn security on him when he comes down. He's not one for sharing…"

"He will come through here, won't he?" Grace said, looking at the woman out of the corner of her eye.

"I..." Christine started.

"You're staying here to kill him."

"I can let him leave here." she defended. "You two… you've done so much. He's not going to show himself until you go down there."

"No, we will deal with him."

"But…"

"Let go of this Christine."

"I can't let go. Every time I've thought about it…"

"If you die up here…"

"Yeah, you will too. I… I need to be sure – see his eyes, his face, when he dies."

"Let him come through. We'll kill him."

Christine showed fierce stubbornness in her features. Ryder silently watched nearby, not daring to comment.

"Promise me you'll deal with him… If I see him…"

"He won't escape." the Deathclaw promised.

"All right." Christine sighed. "I'll leave this floor… go somewhere… anywhere… Fine. Let's get it over with."

She went to the audio-lock (it looked a bit like one of those radios, back at the bunker), then looked unsurely back at Grace and Ryder.

"Uh, what do I say?"

Ryder said, "Just… anything, I guess. Maybe 'Fuck this place.' That'll do."

And she said it with a laugh, and surprisingly the elevator unlocked itself and opened up to them.

When its two curious victims entered it fell slowly down into the heart of the Madre.

 **4**

They saw the vault, floating above a sea of the cloud, waiting to be raided. It was accessed by floating walkways that twisted about like snakes. Four turrets hung back in the shadows near the vault – guardians of something everyone wanted a piece of.

Across from there elevator, crossing walkways, were tiny structures filled with speakers. Ryder's collar started up but alas, Dean's voice came through on his pip-boy.

"Hello? H-Hello? Is this thing on?"

"I hear you, Dean." Ryder replied.

"Good, good. Speakers are down, yes?"

"Just in time."

"Splendid! Now… put a bullet in him for me."

The vault door was surrounded by a small half-made glass dome. As they approached, the cloud crept up their legs through the platform grills. It felt like stepping on a few hundred ants, the feeling of the poison hot on their heels tested Ryder and Grace's resolve.

No humming engines, no Elijah to speak to, only the clink of boots and talons on metal. It was deafeningly quiet until…

Like lightning, sparks of electricity darted off in random directions above the vault door where an engine was suspended in the air, all matter of crazy wires powering everything up above. Cracking _**BZT!**_ 's came out like small screams at random times, never quite making them jump, yet still making them all the more wearier.

So close. They expected something, anything, to try and stop them. Their hearts were tight, surely one last obstacle was about to try and stop them?

No. Not a thing. Aside from _another_ skeleton, seeming to be placed as if clawing towards the vault in its last few moments.

Ryder went to the door terminal while Grace watched his back. Two paintings hung on both sides of the door. _Come to the Sierra Madre! Your fortunes await!_ And the other saying _Let go. Begin again._ Each one had half naked women in loose positions, luring all the unlucky ones to their doom… the doom behind this vault door.

One option read back at him on the screen.

 _Vault Door Control  
Only the trustworthy may enter my vault.  
F.S._

He unlocked it.

The door swung open.

He gave not a second to spare before stepping inside. Grace was right behind him but he didn't even notice her until the moment they both passed in and the door threw itself back into place, locking them in with a loud clunk.

Grace turned and tried to reopen it. Couldn't. She turned back and examined the room what so many people had died to get to.

On the left were two large technological contraptions with blinking red lights. Next to them is what looked like a set of chemicals a mad scientist would have in his lab. To the centre of the room was a U shaped desk with a toppled chair. And on the right side, panels and switches accompanied with blinking lights lined the whole wall – showing random colour patters. Ryder was there, staring at a desk.

But watching over all of this, on the back wall, was the Sierra Madre logo engraved on a circular panel. Large, intimidating, like the casino looming the Villa.

She came up to Ryder's side, curious as to what had him so fixated to not even bother exploring the vault deeper.

"What're we-"

She stopped at what she saw.

There, hastily thrown down and scattered about the desktop, was piles upon piles of gold. Bars, long as her fingers. Not to mention loads of what Ryder called mon-ey.

The golden glow could be seen reflecting off of Ryder's eye. His face lit up with them, one long smile from ear to ear. Hands out, not quite touching them, but so desperately wanting to. _I'm in heaven_ , his face said.

But, all Grace saw was a pile of metal in a reasonably interesting colour. She was immune to its effects, in other terms. She picked one up and found it so heavy that she had to use two hands to lift it up to her eye. The letters S.M. were printed in tiny letters on the face.

This… this is what was so many others undoing.

Three towers of gold on the table.

Three towers of _beginning again_.

Three hurdles of _letting go._

Grace went to the main desk, where the master terminal sat, she passed the knocked over chair and read it over. After a moment, she called Ryder's name.

No response.

"Ryder?"

"…"

"Hey!"

"Huh? What?"

"Come."

He did, though he always kept the gold in his vision.

"What is it?"

"Files, on the lover named Vera."

He opened it up.

 _To Vera,_

 _Vera, if you're reading this, my fears have come to pass, and this is an apology._

 _I knew about your plans to rob the casino with Dean before you told me. Hearing it from you didn't make it any easier. For what it's worth, I am glad you told me yourself, and I understood the tapes he had in his possession._

 _When first building this Villa, this casino, I meant it for you. As the world seemed to race headlong toward war, it became part of my desire to protect you. The loans, the funding I poured into the casino's construction..._

 _I fear, however, that I overstepped myself, and the only safe place in the casino is the Vault. I have tried to rewire the systems, change the protocols, and I cannot. I will do one last check on the pipes by the edge of the outside platform and see if anything can be done._

"I guess that was him outside." Ryder said, but read on.

 _If you come down here, do not access my personal accounts entry._

 _It contains only a message for Dean, and it will seal the door and you will have no way out - even the elevator is designed to automatically return when the door is closed, and it will lock in place._

 _The holograms should defend the casino from any attackers, and the hologram beacon in the Villa will broadcast an emergency signal so that others know you are here._

 _When danger has passed, rescue will come._

 _I hope you were able to read this, and know that I loved you._

 _Frederick Sinclair_

"We're a bit late." Grace said, "Poor Vera… poor Sinclair, if only he could see this place now…"

"He loved her, but she didn't love _him._ " Ryder added longingly.

Ryder grew tired of the file, so he turned back to see all that golden glory again. But before he could, the panel with the Madre logo slid open, revealing a circular portrait of an old grizzled man with a green hue.

"You." it said. "You're in my vault… finally. After all this time. The Sierra Madre… _mine_."

The sound of Elijah on the edge of success. Almost there, yet the Old Man was holding back on something.

" _Don't_ move. _Don't_ touch anything. There may be more traps down there… another security system."

"I want to know a few things." Ryder said.

"Of course you do. You've come this far, and our conversations have been much too one sided. I'll answer… ask away."

"This thing." Ryder held up his wrist toy. "How've you gotten into it?"

"No machine is foolproof, they are designed to obey us. The pip-boy system has vulnerabilities… advantages to those who've studied its construction. But… it's just a machine. The _real_ vulnerability is the one who wears it. That's how you were caught."

"Hey, Grace?" Ryder whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to toss this thing in the trash."

"Will do."

Ryder went back to Elijah but the Old Man had heard them and said, "You should be proud that you have one! It's a convenience, a crutch, you certainly need it a lot more than _I_ do."

"Elijah, you've got a lot to answer for." said Grace.

"Do I? For what? _Your_ greed? Curiosity? I didn't hold a gun to your heads, no one did. You two picked up the signal just like I did, you couldn't resist. So if you… an animal… think _I_ have a lot to answer for your _wrong_. You might as well have put the collar on yourself. You think you're so special that you got the casino door open? No, I did it first, with other hands and bodies. After that, the casino wouldn't let go. Locked in… no way out… until _you_ two came along. Then…. then things changed."

He wasn't hiding, he was trapped. Like Dean, like Dog and God, like Christine… and now, like them.

"What is it that you want?" she pondered.

He answered with vigour. "A citadel. Weapons, security, the Madre's all these things. A chance to… begin again. Once I unlock its archives, I can carve the world into any shape I choose. The cloud protects this place… I can use it to preserve other relics – and cleanse them. And I need holograms that work properly."

"Properly?" she said with a touch of unbelieving. "You should look elsewhere."

"They kill trespassers." he stated. "That's what I want. Its like holding light in your hands, just one hologram makes you… unstoppable. The cloud wipes the slate clean. Collars ensure cooperation. Holograms – defence. The Sierra Madre can build a nation… and kill them, with the right applications."

"Wipe the slate clean…" Ryder mused. "Sounds like those Purifiers."

"You're a murderer Elijah! What you think of doing is madness!" Grace said.

"Oh, if I was, I'd have not told you to tear off your collar, would I?"

"Why even do that then? If you wanted my cooperation… you shouldn't have told me I could've."

"My nation has no need for animals like you. I wanted you gone. Out of here before your filth did something wrong. Thought that freedom would make you consider leaving but no. You held on… you stayed… and now you're in the vault, tied to the junkie… it's as if you always had a collar on… isn't it? I wonder if there are more like you… talking animals with 'goals' and 'friends' like you think you're people. Well, I have something to tell you. You're not. You won't last… I'll make sure you don't. And if you cooperate? I'll make it quicker…"

"Everyone out there are merely children." Elijah pressed. "Human instinct is always against us. Its why that even if you wanted to willingly be a part of my new world, you'd still need a collar. To beat greed… it can be done. Contained, controlled. You two know it better than anyone, or… I hope you do."

"We found this place by a signal, but, how did YOU learn about it?"

"It started with… a setback. Fires, blood, beneath the sun… a sun so close you could touch it. Moments like that, however, failures… can provide the brightest clarity."

It was vague, unspecified, they would later know of these places.

"After that… I wandered, alone. Saw the Divide. Travelled to the Big Empty. Heard the signal, the voice to reverse my fortunes. All… nonsense."

 _If only me and Ryder had thought the same._

"After all the bodies kept dying on me… you… you two… you got farthest of them all. And now I can finally get what I want."

"Fine then." said Grace. "Coming down now?"

"No. Not this close… not again… I can wait, afford to be careful. But you two are locked down there. I have free rein of the Sierra Madre. I have time… more than you. But besides, there might be more traps. I'll send more scouts in… yes, others. You're resourceful, for an animal. Don't want to leave anything more to chance."

"Wait? For how long?"

"May be a while. Heh! Consider this punishment for following the signal in the first place. So eager to rush ahead… now, enjoy your reward."

No… no there had to be a way out. She rose and went back to the vault door. Try as she did, it did not budge.

"Ryder, help me with the door."

He just stood there, staring at Elijah.

"Hey! C'mon!"

Aimless standing and staring. She approached him and thought about hitting him like he had suggested before. She brought back her right fist and held it there for a second. After a few seconds of silently thinking, she sent it forward…

But he reeled away in time for her to miss him completely. Yet he never looked like he registered her fist, instead, he walked up real close to the projection and pointed an accusing finger at it.

"You won't come down?" Ryder said with a touch of slyness. "Then I'll find a way to unlock the secrets of this vault, take them for myself."

Elijah responded with equal footing. "You've gotten far. Any farther, you'll became a corpse. What's inside is mine. Anyone else touches it… tries to take it from me… they'll answer for it!"

Ryder looked at Grace for a moment, then back to Elijah. "Well, I already managed to unlock the elevator and get here before _you_." Then he added an afterthought. "Better hurry."

Elijah wouldn't let up. "This casino isn't some caravan safe. And the lock that secures the Sierra Madre vault doesn't hold all its secrets."

"You wanna stay up there and wait? Fine." He turns away. "I'll keep myself busy down here."

She imagined Elijah shrugging when he replied with, "You can try. The Sierra Madre is a patient thing, and it has outlasted many who've come to its doors."

"This place is just one big combination lock. And I've almost cracked it."

This was when Grace thought that this conversation wouldn't end. But ironically that last bit had tipped Elijah off, it was easy to hear it in his angry voice.

"I've had enough…" The Old Man said like a child who couldn't get his desert. "… enough of others stealing from me. I'll find you myself, break into the vault and I'll set off the collar."

And at that, the projector slid closed.

"Huh, I actually did it… Hey! What's in that cabinet?"

Yes, beside the mountains of gold a cabinet sat against the corner. He rummaged around inside it for a moment, delving deeper and deeper while Grace hung back and waited. He disappeared into it, first his head, arms, then his torso. It looked as if the cabinet was eating him up! He raised one leg – maiden style – and murmured excitement.

It tricked her eyes, maybe it was bigger on the inside? How could he…

It vomited him out, one hand holding a moderately-sized magnum coated in coal-black paint, the other holding a few auto loaders that he stuffed into his pockets. He then moved on to the bench of gold and proceeded to put as many bars into his jumpsuit. He struggled, couldn't even fit _one_ bar in.

"No." he whispered as he jammed a bar that wouldn't stay put. "C'mon… c'mon…."

"Ryder…"

"Its gotta… its gotta work."

"Ryder!"

"What?"

"It's time to go."

"No!" he desperately said. "Not with all this… We have to get it… Carry some for me!"

He held a bar out to her but she shook her head. "They're too heavy."

"No! You got arms, w-we need to get as many out as we can."

"It'll only slow us down."

"Don't say that! We can do it!"

"You're doing it again, those tats-"

"You don't understand!" he cried. "This is worth so much! We could do anything out there… I could get anything… _everything…_ "

He sounded like he was talking to himself.

"A new life… _My_ new life. All this gold – it's a good start. GREAT start!"

God was right. God warned her about this moment and she dismissed him. _'You better call me when Ryder finds what he's looking for. I'll help you kill him.'_ is what he said. And now that Ryder had come here…

He had become Elijah. And now… now the Madre wouldn't let him go.

Or, _he_ couldn't let the _Madre_ go, it depended on how you look at it. But she didn't come all this way to be called greedy and be hurt for it, to get knocked out twice and almost trapped in a vault full of useless gold (in her eyes). No, she came to find Ryder, and they were getting out of here.

"Stop, Ryder." she said, knocking away the gold out of his hand.

"What are you talking about?" he cried, kneeling down to pick it up, visibly struggling, without an eye he had some trouble.

"Leave those… things… here, forget them."

Silence, then he said, "Think of the money."

"Think of freedom . Think of the outside, no cloud, no collar."

"I am! With all this I… I won't have to worry about running into traps anymore! Or anything ever!"

"You haven't learned a thing, have you?"

"What? I don't-"

"Dog and God – hunger and control. Christine – obsessed with her mission. Dean – a liar, thief, who twisted Vera into betraying her lover for his own gain. Elijah – a lust for technology, fighting madness with madness. They were all controlled by instinct, by _greed_. All of them. Greed is the strings and they are the puppets. This place has killed enough people and its weapon is _greed_. Don't you get it? The others are alive, Elijah is at deaths door, _we are so close!_ Don't turn your back on everything now. Please, can't you see the effects of greed? Elijah just tried to shame us for coming here! Please… Please don't let him be right about us."

Madre had gone quiet, like a cheat who had been caught.

"Just… let go. Let go of it all and lets go home."

"… Where is home?"

"It's not in those bars."

"But…"

"Let go."

What did he tell himself a while back? In that odd dream… his parents, something about those two very words…

 _Can you let go?_

 _Yes._

 _Then prove it._

He gave the gold a longing glance. "Its… so much." He felt and sounded on the edge. "I could… begin again with… all this…"

"But it's not worth becoming someone I know you're not."

"… You don't know a lot about me then."

She waved a hand to the pile of treasure. "Prove me wrong."

He didn't move for a while. She had a suspicion he wasn't listening but she knew he was. Whatever clockwork that ticked his mind was spinning so much that he couldn't use his body at the moment.

But after what seemed like forever, he turned to the table and put the pistol down. He brought his hands up in front of him, one holding a thick gold piece, one empty with the palm up. A ghost of the shakes could be seen in the empty hand. He curled it into a fist, then released it. Curled it again, released. He did this for what seemed like forever, until at last, he dropped the gold back on the table. He picked up the pistol and checked the chamber with one flick, putting it back with another.

He sighed heavily. She did as well – on the inside.

"Alright Grace, let's go."

She nodded, turned and opened the door with a look of determination.

"Oh," she said, seeing it was still locked up.

"Lemme see if this terminal will do the trick."

There was one next to the vault door. It had the option to release the door, but when he activated it alarms started to blare, both in and out of the vault. But the door swung open silently, and this time Grace was the first one out – Ryder in tow.

But there, just outside the dome, with two turret sentinels on his flanks, was the man with many names. Old Man, Master, the Father or Elijah. He wore great blue robes that bagged at the knees and heels. His face was a little different from the images and screens, but he still had wild white hair along with a thick beard of matching colour.

What struck Ryder was that he also wore a pip-boy. A little different, smaller, modified most like. So much dictatorship and control shaped his voice into something terrible.

"You think you can steal from _me_?" Elijah practically growled. "This place is _mine_."

On his back was the butt of a gauss rifle peaking over his right shoulder. But Elijah didn't go for it. Instead, he mashed a few buttons on his wrist-toy, seemingly at random – though it was actually a series of complex commands for the Madre to listen to, his old fingers danced on the buttons, typing a code of death.

"No one. Not _you_ , not an _animal_ , will stand in my way."

The sentinels rose there electronic barrels with a whirr, reawakening to obey its new master. The motion sensors (looking like empty light bulbs) scanned for a moment, then aimed at Ryder and Grace menacingly. The barrels lighting up a dark red.

"You've outlived your uses. Should've left while you still could. Now stand still…"

Then, Christine's voice rang throughout the great Vault hall through unseen speakers.

"Burn in hell you son of a bitch!"

The turrets adjusted their aim and fired a volley of crimson energy.

Elijah explodes inside his clothes as the volley strikes him in the centre of his back, belching blood and torn flesh from the buttons of his robes, even the cuffs of his pants spewed up crimson bile. The turrets ceased there slaughter, the motors cooling down and preparing for round two.

Elijah went to his knees, clutching his stomach (now certainly growling). Despite taking an overwhelming amount of fire, the man had been through a lot, and rather than lie down and die already, he instead gritted his teeth and pointing his finger like the barrel of a gun at the both of them.

"What have you… done? I… Think about what your throwing away! Arrghh…. Please… help me. Stop the turrets and help me!"

They could hear the holes in his lungs effect his voice, slowly tearing him apart…

"You… don't understand!" he said after he got no response. "There's so much in there… I-I can show you! You can rule the wastes! With an _army_ at your back!"

He got a flicker of Ryder's eyes and that got him going further than he should have. His left arm fell to the floor, keeping his talkative face from the cold ground.

"Let's go." Grace said, walking past the excuse for a being towards the lift they used before. Ryder did the same but Elijah clutched at his knee, making him stop.

Desperately, _"Don't you leave me here!"_ Wheezing, _"I saw the things recorded on your pip-boy, you want to take the Purifiers down!"_

"How do you know that?" he asked – whisper.

" _It records you when you aren't looking. I can help you take them. We… We and the Madre. Together!"_

Ryder pitied him, despite all this man had done to him and the others, he still had his mind on turning the world in his hands. But the pity was… short-lived. He wouldn't let this old man be right about anything anymore.

"Goodbye, Elijah."

" _W-W-Wait… ack… please, you can't do this to me!… Bleeding out like a… Just shoot me."_

Ryder twirled the pistol on his finger, now holding the barrel in his palm, he brought it up behind his shoulder and said,

"You're not worth the bullet."

" _You-"_

The iron pistol grip struck Elijah square on the forehead. In the next second Elijah's face was one of unbelieving, he tumbled backwards, and since there were no guard rails on the walkways, down went the old man's body, his eyes filled with pure rage stared back as he sailed into the depths of the cloud, into utter darkness.

Ryder froze in that executioners pose for a moment.

But when Elijah was gone, the casino vault was going to go down with him.

The electric sparks went wild, flashing this way and that. The turrets exploded like some scripted light show. A walkway tumbled down with on his right, a section of the wall peeled off on his left.

"Hurry Ryder!" Grace called from the elevator, which he had temporarily forgotten all about.

Clutching the pistol, he raced forward to the Deathclaw, who beckoned him forward with one long arm.

 _ **BNK BNK BNK!**_ went his boots on metal. Faster and faster the more the chaos followed him, sparks reached out, tempting to knock him back and bring him into their electric clutches. With every step one section after the other rattled and broke beneath him.

The walkway behind him was gone. But, a piece of it _ahead_ of him at first threatened to fall, then did. About five meters of it disappeared, revealing the dark red cloud's terrifying gas.

"Ryder! Jump!"

He did.

 **5**

The starlet hologram watched over her as she stood – for the final time – near the fountain's ring. The Ghost People gave her not a glimpse. They had seemed to accept her deathly presence as one of their own.

But she wouldn't overstay her welcome. No way Jose. Is that how you put it?

The human woman – Christine – approached, silent as ever, trained to perfection in the art of hunting.

But… she could be smelt from a mile away. She decided to put down the humans sneaking skill by announcing to her, not looking in her direction.

"Thought you'd left."

Christine made a chuckle, and no longer bothered to muffle her steps as she stepped into the fountains dying light.

"Likewise, Deathclaw."

The Deathclaw gave a toothy grin. "Planning to stay?"

"Too many people have fallen here. That signal will lure more and more unlucky souls. I can't let all this happen again."

"So you _are_ staying."

"Mhmm. What about you? Can't imagine two of us watching over this place."

"What? Oh, no… No I'm waiting for old Ryder."

"Wow, out here, among the Ghosts? Don't want to leave? Or… is he already gone?"

"No, he went out there. Said he saw something and _had_ –" she put her fingers up, signalling air quotes. "- to show me."

"Out there?" she frowned. "On his own? You didn't go with?"

Grace shrugged. "Said it was a surprise."

"Huh. Guess it might be a… gun, or something."

The Deathclaw shrugged again, saying nothing.

Like a new born emerging from a mother's womb, up above in the cloud, one golden ray of sunlight pierced the red blanket. It only lasted a moment, but the Deathclaw closed her eyes under the temporary warmth and simply let the cold escape her.

"Cloud… think its sentient?" the human asked. "Like you?"

"Could be."

"I got a feeling it is. Hmmm, might be a way to keep it here, or extinguish it. Certainly don't want the world to look like _this._ "

She waved her arms, gesturing in all directions. After that? Silence.

"Uh, Grace?"

"Yes?"

"I just want to know something. If Ryder followed the signal from his pip-boy, then how did _you_ get here? You with him at the time?"

"No, I wasn't, actually."

"Oh, well, how then?"

"I heard Vera's voice. But, what really got me going was hearing _his_. We united after a long while… in this place."

"If you knew that voice would bring you here – to a form of hell – do you think you'd still follow it?"

Now she had the Deathclaws attention. "Well… Why do you ask?"

"Call me curious."

"Well, Curious, if I knew I would have a collar to my neck, and I had to obey an old crazy mans orders… I think I still would."

"Sounds like you two have a history."

"I owe him."

"And now?"

"Ha! Now he owes _me_!"

"Are you guys talking about me?"

Vomited forth from a random Villa building door came the one called Ryder, holding a small object in one hand, pistol in the other. His suit incredibly dirty and already starting to tear.

"Yep." said Grace. "You owe me big time."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"I _mean_ , that you owe me, like, a lot."

"What? It's not my fault this place got you."

"Yeah, it is."

"Nuh-uh."

"Ya-huh."

"How old are you two?" Christine interrupted.

As one, they shrugged. Not quite an answer but they seemed to get the message.

"So, Grace said you were getting something?"

He lit up. "Ah that's right." He turned and walked up to the Deathclaw all casual-like, holding one hand out to her, like offering a present.

What he held was a small palm-sized object. Thin golden circular base with a glass dome. Inside it was a tiny version of the Sierra Madre, only rather than being cracked, menacing and a symbol of doom. This one looked rather bright and pretty, with tiny little searchlights lighting the building pink and blue and red.

And rather than a red cloud, small white flakes flew about like birds, the effect was dazzling.

Grace studied it with intent eyes for a while. Then she popped the question. "What… _is_ it?"

"A snow globe!" he said, excitedly. "Take it, shake it around."

She did those two things. And he could tell she was infatuated by it. She didn't ask him how or why he got it, so he presumed that even though it represented a terrible place that should be forgotten, it would later prove to be a sort of… memento, perhaps so that they _never_ forgot what they had learned here.

The Sierra Madre. A promise. A place of changing fortunes. Begin again. It was a terrible and hard task to beat this place.

Finding it though… that wasn't the hard part.

It was letting go.

Ryder learned this the hard way, how greed and eagerness would be his undoing. What the Madre told him… he would forget at times, looking as if he shrugged it off like some sort of meaningless task. But its message would ring clear in his head when the time came. The time when his mistakes would finally catch up to him, where he would stand were it all began, and face the biggest threat in his whole life.

But that is a story for a different day.

"You sure you wanna stay here?" Ryder asked for the umpteenth time.

"I'll turn the unfortunate away from here. I have to." Christine said.

"You should take a break sometime. I may need your help in the future."

She thought, nodded, then, "Suppose I could. I'll show you a route out of here on your map."

She told him, and he understood. He thought the route to be complex, but it seemed so straight forward.

The gate out of here awaited them, but just before they went to it, Ryder turned back to the woman who chose to stay and said…

"Where did Dean and God go?"

Christine simply pointed at the gate.

"Huh, alright. So long, Christine."

"One more thing, Ryder."

She beckoned him forward while Grace watched from the gate. Out of earshot, a respectable distance.

"You take care of her."

"Uh, it's a Deathclaw." he replied, talking to someone he thought might've said something dumber than he was.

"It's your friend. Treat her well, her heart lies in the right place. She came all this way for you, you understand me?"

He slumped at bad memories. But maybe…

"I'll… I'll try."

"Good. Now, get out of here." She clapped him on the back and bid him farewell.

Grace did not even attempt to find out what they had said.

 **6**

In the room where they had passed out, with the bunk beds attached to the left and right walls, each accompanied with a footlocker, the air seemed empty and less thrilling than the last time it had been occupied.

That was until… a large hatch, hidden in the back of the room, rattled away, along with the sounds of muffled voices…

"… and then you shot me!"

"Hey! I told you why and it wasn't my fault!"

"Well… Wait, how long have we been down here?"

"Beats me. Look! Help me with this hatch."

Like a zombie in a grave, a Deathclaws fist punched the hatch from below, sending it flying off to be forgotten. A piece of the floor revealed Grace first, who saw nothing out of the ordinary as far as she could remember. Behind her, one human arm reached out after the other until at last he planted his feet and stretched his back.

The radio that had lead them here – sitting there on the central table – still talked, but now… now Vera's voice sounded kind of desperate.

" _Wait a moment. Before you go, I… we… hope you've enjoyed your stay._ _Farewells can be a time of sadness – letting go, difficult. As a guest of the-"_

 _ **KSH**_

"No I did not enjoy my stay and yes, it _was_ difficult! Phew…"

Ryder pulled a comical face at Grace's 'slight' outburst. She lifted her fist and turned, combining a shrug and shy smile. "Sorry."

"No, no its all good. Hey! What's in these lockers?"

He searched them. In the last one he found something. He pulled out a massive gauntlet in the shape of a human fist. Overly large, massive nails like knives, all of it coated a midnight black.

"Power fist… think you can wear it?" Ryder asked.

She made sure he saw her large talons as her answer.

"Oh, right. Never mind then."

He put it back. They went down the hall to the exit, but it branched off to the right halfway down and they _had_ to investigate. It looked ransacked, toppled chairs and tables, not to mention book-loads of pages littering the floor. There was an old and broken laser rifle and a chemistry set on one table, and a pile of scrap on another.

There was only two things of interest. The first was a small cabinet near a nice looking bed, inside was a small square object that said 'For Veronica.' on its side. Ryder had no idea why but decided to keep it. The second was found by Grace, who found a pile of objects in the far corner. The pile was familiar, as it held a handbag (with all its contents untouched) and a messy stack of armour and weapons.

"Ryder, I have a few of those tats leftover."

He smiled and took two from her hand, lightly grazing her palm. He gobbled them up like a starving man for food, and felt better for it.

Ryder donned his old (and still blood stained) armour, (Grace waited outside, Ryder wanted 'privacy', whatever that meant). He soon came back to find her near the exit, which was in the corner on the roof, a rusty ladder leading to a hatch.

"We all set then?" he asked, clapping his hands once and swishing his trench coat behind him.

"Yes but, that hatch seems smaller than before."

"Yeah, well, you've certainly grown since last time."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No!" he said, reeling back.

Grace smirked and put her hands on the ladder holds – which looked tiny when she grasped them – and ascended while Ryder waited. She reached the hatch (punching it out like the other one) and managed to squeeze her shoulders through before stopping to catch her breath.

It looked like she was simply enjoying the sun, but that wasn't the case…

"Everything all right?" Ryder called after her 'break' went for longer than expected.

Was that humour she heard?

"Yes, very."

"Alright. I believe you."

She wormed one arm out after a minute. But she grew tired, and had nothing better to do then scan the outside. It was morning, maybe midday. No critters or humans, thankfully. Just the passing dust off of the light wind, which brought her peace after a long time of dead casino air.

"Graaace." Ryder called, sing-song.

"I'm working on it."

"I can tell."

A pause. And alas, she said, "I'm stuck."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Need a hand? Or a push?"

"Mhmm."

"You sure?"

She swiped her tail randomly backwards. She heard him go "Woop!" but didn't make contact.

"Sheesh! You nearly took my head off!"

"Get me out of here _now_." she ordered.

"Alright alright… damn… huh, _guess I was right about the fat part…_ "

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

He climbed the first few steps and realised that he had no idea how to help from this position. There her lower body was, tail drawn back against her rump and legs. He balanced himself on his feet and raised his hands… but brought them back down after a thought about how he would look if he did _that_.

Instead, he turned around on the ladder, placed his back against her underside, and pushed upwards.

They got her a bit further. She suggested that he should, "Just use your hands!" to which he replied with an awkward laugh. But no hatch could stop them for long. For after a while (longer than it should have) Grace at last was free and was joined by her human friend. Who adjusted the front of his collar and straightened up after emerging from the ground – all posh-posh style.

"So, you mentioned this 'Brooks' girl before. Shall we go? I'll tell you all about how I got here whilst we do."

She said it sounded good.

"You forgot something." he said out of the blue, and reached behind his back, revealing a strap of a handbag, which she had hastily dropped just before being… _stuck_ , in the hatch.

She took it from his outstretched hand, checking the contents once (snow globe was inside it). She asked him if he wanted the bag, since it was technically his, but he waved it away, saying she should have it 'Just because'.

The two of them walked north from there, it could be seen that they walked a little differently, whether it be with a hard lesson at the Madre or some other reason, it didn't matter. They had passed a trial, but had many to go.

Hopefully, the Sierra Madre hadn't held them for too long, and the world hadn't moved on just yet.


	15. Chapter 15: Home Bound

**Home Bound  
**

 **1**

For the first half hour after leaving the bunker, Ryder and Grace walked east towards where Brooks said she would stay for a while, the both of them ambling side by side in good fellowship. Ryder was troubled slightly, as he pointed out he had no idea how much time had passed during their time in the Madre. But when he told his tale after he 'died' they seemed to dismiss that altogether.

After Ryder had finished, and Grace had finished her questions, (which she had quite a lot of) the two were silent as they crossed barren dirt. That was until Ryder hummed a tune to himself, then eventually started to creep words into it, making an odd noise Grace had to ask about.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Talking to yourself."

"Huh? No, no that's called _singing_."

Her eyes flickered slightly. "Oh, what're you singing?"

"I don't know, some random thing is all it is, doesn't matter."

"C'mon, tell me. Sounds very… uh…"

He suggested, "Drab?"

"No, more like… soothing. Familiar, you like singing?"

"Do it from time to time. Helps give life to all this." He waves a hand all round them. "I'm surprised your asking, I've done it when you were yay high."

He levelled his hand and put it to around knee-height. He looked to her face and said, "Now though, your just as tall as me! Maybe a _little_ bit taller."

"If I've learned anything, it's that growing up is _not_ a bad thing. Especially in this world."

"You're lucky. It takes a human years just to get to my height."

"Are you considered tall? Or short?"

"Well, I know that I don't get… pfft… _overlooked._ Ha! Get it?"

"I don't."

"They never do."

They came to a stop on the peak of a small hill. Down below in a valley was the remains of a town battered by bombs. A ring of _mostly_ intact buildings ran around a pile of rubble known as Boulder City. The faintest signs of movement could be seen on their side of the rub;e – people, though not the usual wastelander folk.

The Deathclaw pointed down there and said, "This is where… Ben-ny, is?"

"Hopefully. Don't expect him to be, place looks dead."

That was all to true when they descended onto the rickety road that was clear except for toppled light posts that lined the road like branches would on a forest path. Deeper in the buildings were built from the same material the roads were – or at least it looked like it – and all of them were either slanted or had great big chunks missing from them, which most likely had joined the disgrace that was the ground.

There was a man, wearing a green beret and officers garments, motioning for his men to stay low, and low they were, for there was so much jagged rubble to hide behind for whatever it was they were sneaking up on.

Green beret man looked over his shoulder, spied the two, told his men to hold, got up and crouched his way over to them.

"Get your asses down!"

Ryder did that, and after a confusing second, the Deathclaw did as well. The soldier put his palms up and almost yelled:

"I can't believe it's _you_!"

"Uh, me?"

The thing was, not only did Ryder say that, but so did Grace. Precisely the same time, like twins, they also gave each other a questioning look, then a small shameful smile.

Green Beret nearly fainted. He gave one moment to comprehend a talking Deathclaw, then put his hand to his head and sighed loudly.

"I-I-I-It talks!"

"Yes." Grace said, leaning in. "It does."

"But you… and that… you sound like… how is?" the officer – weathered and experienced after many tours – blurted.

Ryder pointed behind the man and said, "Who are you and your men prowling up to? It's not Khans, is it?"

After a good while of silence, the officer responded. "Yes, Khans, crossing our territory, they shot at us and fled into the big building down there. Captured Private Spanks during their retreat and we're about to move in."

Ryder gave him a hard look. "I need to talk to these people first."

"You wanna negotiate for their surrender while you're at it?"

"I…"

"If anyone could talk 'em out of it, it would be _you_ , Whisperer."

"Whisperer?" he said, knowing full well why he called him that, but asked anyway.

"If you could tame _that_ -" he jerked a thumb at Grace. "-then you could do anything."

Grace seized the officers thumb and bent it back – quite dextrously. The troopers behind him didn't hear their leaders faintest whimpers, or see his eyes bulge from their sockets. Grace – just cheerful and curious one minute ago – sounded quite pissed.

"I won't take that from you, chinless, you dare refer to me like that again, and ill rip out your tongue and feed it back to you."

"Ok-Okay!" he gasped, sweat tearing down his face in giant drops. "Wont ha-happen again!"

"Good." Grace said, and let him go. Chinless rubbed his hand but made no attempt to either warn his men or run off. Instead, he reached behind to the back of his belt and pulled out a megaphone.

"Here." he said in a recovering cowardly voice. "Men! Give these two some room."

They parted, faces similar to the officer's. Ryder and Grace went prone behind a fallen piece of concrete wall and peered up and down the street. Grace was on his left, and on _her_ left was an unlucky trooper who didn't have the guts to move away before Grace plonked her body very closely to his.

"Hi." she said to him, smiling.

His helmet rattled with his head. His cheeks flapped against his gums – he looked about ready to pass out.

Down the street, a two story building that wasn't completely destroyed stood opposing them. At first glance Ryder saw nothing, but just a hint of movement in the top left window got him to stare more intently. He heard the faintest cough, the shimmying of boots, and even a few voices after a while. He put the device to his lips.

" _Uh, hello! Is this thing on? Testing, testing, can you hear me over there?"_

"Yes!" a man shouted, but this was drowned out by:

" _CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"_

"Yes! I said YES!"

" _Alright then. Where is the man called Jessup?"_

"… He's dead!"

" _That's hard to believe when the one I am talking about is yelling back at me! Can I come over?"_

"Fuck for?"

" _We need to resolve this situation. Face to face."_

"Yeah… Yeah okay! But no Deathclaw though!"

Ryder put the device down and said to Grace, "You cool with that?"

"Yes. Very cool." She turned to the wobbly trooper. "Isn't that right bud?"

A squeak, like a frightened rat, is all he said.

Ryder set the megaphone down, got up, and walked down the street. One hand was on the butt of his new revolver, he knew a few of the faces that he passed – some of them from Goodsprings, others from a while back – but he didn't speak to them, and they shared his silence.

The main door leading to the building had two figures standing on its sides. They both wore similar black jacket and jean getups but only one of them Ryder recognised. The man with the orange mohawk that helped bury him back when.

He stopped about four meters away from them. Jessup shook his head in disbelief, went to say something, but thought better of it.

"Jessup." Ryder said.

"Ryder." Jessup said. "You're… supposed to be dead."

Not angry, nor any emotion, both voices were flat – old pals reuniting.

"I got better."

"How's ma'?"

"Fine. No thanks to you."

"Look man-"

"Can we talk alone?"

"Yeah, sure." Jessup took a breath. "In here."

Jessup walked in the door, the other man obediently let Ryder through and closed the door behind him. Inside was what looked like an old bakery of sorts. The glass display still presented old mouldy chunks of something that was once long ago edible.

Ryder leant against the display, crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. "You know what I want to know. Tell me."

"Look. I was desperate. The money… it really saved my hide! I needed it and I got it, I didn't know YOU would be the target!"

"I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yes. But I need to get you and your guys outta here. And to know where Benny went."

"Alright. What do you think we should do?"

"Give up the hostage. They'll let you leave. I've talked to the officer, he's wants you out."

"You sure?"

"I've known you since I first came to this place. I would've done the same if I were you, you know I would."

"Yeah but… Okay, I'll let em' go. But NCR better keep their word!"

"No need to doubt it."

Thirty minutes went by. The NCR backed off and the Khans were free to leave. But in that bakery Jessup told his team that he would stay with Ryder for a bit, and to tell Papa that he would be late for his report. He and Ryder were alone, and Jessup was beaming. Ryder was not.

"Man, I thought you'd be a bit more pissed at me for helping put you down! I guess we Khans gotta stick together."

"Believe me, I'm furious."

"Heh! You always were light on grudges."

Ryder put one hand to his shoulder and whispered some very slow words, his head leaning in further still.

"Does Papa Bear know you're here?" Jessup shook his head.

"No, he thinks we're still fucking around at Goodsprings. Why? Think he needs to know?"

"No, he knows nothing, and wont."

"So we can put this all behind us?"

"Yes."

Before Jessup could scream, Ryder's hand on Jessup's shoulder went for his stupid little mohawk and pulled it back. The knife Ryder held in his other hand wasn't as sharp as his original one he had left somewhere and forgotten it, but it did the job effectively enough. Blood sprayed scarlet in the room from Jessup's throat. He let his hair go and sheathed the blade.

He didn't even look back as he closed the door.

 **2**

"Ready to go Grace?"

She had been fiddling with the unlucky troopers firearm (unloaded) and had managed to pull apart the barrel and sights with a series of clicks and clacks. She had experience, you see, when she was yay high. Though she wasn't using her teeth anymore.

"I am. Just wait oneeeeeee second."

And with blurry speed, she had put it back together. It didn't look perfect, but Ryder thought it wouldn't jam for a while. NCR equipment was shoddy anyway. She handed it back but the trooper didn't thank her, he just simply sprung to his feet and bolted to the outer city – to a camp or something, most like, maybe a shit stain marking his pants.

She stood and brushed her legs of stone dust. She checked her little bag then nodded to him. But before they started to trek, he noticed her eyes dart to his knife sheathe too many times. He knew the words she would say before she even spoke them.

"There is blood on your blade."

He tugged his cloak tighter and started walking faster. She was at his side.

"You killed him. Why?"

His eyes quickly passed over his red-eyed helmet that was clipped to his belt. _Why_ did _you_ _do it?_ His answer was short, sharp, and to the point. Much like the weapon he used to kill.

"He deserved it."

"What did he do?"

"What _didn't_ he do? He helped kill me for cash. The moment someone flashed money at him he no longer knew me. I saw it in his face."

"You couldn't forgive him?"

He didn't answer that one.

 **3**

By the time they reached the very same road Grace had her 'trip' with the ghoul Brooks, it was afternoon, the sun beginning its descent into the distant mountains, painting the sky a beautiful orange-red hue that turned violet.

The road they walked crested slightly, up and above a tiny dent in the earth, shaping into a bridge. The NCR flag ruled the small outpost by the bridge – hung high above two trading tents. Outside these tents were park benches, only two were still intact, but of those, only one was being used right now.

Just when the tops of their eyes spied the three people sitting at the splintered table, one of them had bolted right up to them and pointed dramatically to Ryder. So fast, that even the Deathclaw's heightened senses didn't really notice the … stocky… mans approach.

"You!" said the man, posed like someone off a comic would if they met an old acquaintance.

"You." said Ryder, equally as dramatic.

"I've got two… no, THREE, things to say to you!"

"Shoot."

"One." the man said, raising one finger. "You left me the tab back in Novac. I know you had more than me, so don't bother worming you way out. Two." Another finger. "I thought your note said you'd be back… IN NOVAC! This doesn't look like Novac!"

"Well, then why are YOU here?"

"… Good point, I withdraw my statement."

"And the third thing?"

"Ah yes." He held out a hand to Grace, no sign of doubt. "I already know the answer, but THIS is your Deathclaw buddy old pal you mentioned before?"

"I am indeed the 'buddy old pal'." Grace replied, shaking his hand firmly. "Who are you?"

"I am the one and only JACE." He rubs his hands together and lowered his voice. "Nice grip."

She raised a brow or whatever part of her face that was. " _Jay-see?_ Isn't that a girl's name?"

"No."

"It sounds like it is."

"Trust me, Deathclaw, it's _not_. Right Ryder?"

"Don't say anything! It got me in trouble!" yelled a certain ghoul who sat on the bench – smoking (of course) another stick-thing. She still talked in a constant croak.

"Care to join us?" Jace said proudly. "I brought sandwiches!"

They certainly did. A great pile of triangular-cut bread that reminded the two of the Madre gold. Grace wondered how someone could gather so much food – and have the time to cut it – but decided to simply eat away her curiosity. She sat on a free space of the bench next to Brooks. Opposite her sat Ryder and Jace, who both ate with vigour.

"How long have you been waiting here, Brooks?" Grace asked after setting her palms down to her lap – her hunger sated for now.

"Just a day, sugar."

At this, Ryder looked up at the ghoul, then to Grace. _Only a day?_ they mentally thought together, believing that they had been gone for _much_ longer than that. Maybe not only was the world dying over in the Sierra, but time was as well.

"Anyway," Brooks said after a draw, looking to Ryder. "You're the one causing the wastes to turn in its grave? I can see by your clothes, heh! Your more bloodier than a Charlie Sheen hooker."

Ryder shrugs. "That's me alright. I heard you had a certain run in with a Purifier?"

"How'd you know?"

"The one called Seth tried to kill Grace and I – I was the unlucky one – I tracked him down to Novac, where a guy overheard him mention your name. I plan on taking them all down."

"A noble goal, something I could get behind. But you should know these aren't your ordinary mercenaries or guns-for-hire. They are so much _worse_."

"I remember seeing one, uh, from a distance of course." Jace put in, mouth half full. "I thought it was Brotherhood, what with all the getup."

"It's not Brotherhood." Ryder said. "The armour is so much… more. Maybe its modified T-60."

"Its pre-war, like me." Brooks remarked. "I can't quite place it, but I've seen them before sometime…"

"Pre-war?" Grace asked. "What war?"

"How do I put this?" Brooks mused, taking a long puff before talking again. "About… two-hundred years ago, these bombs… HUGE bombs… wiped out pretty much all life on earth. I lived, but, now I look like I have a scrotum for a face."

At that, Jace spat out whatever was in his mouth., laughing and choking at the same time.

"But at least it didn't stop me from getting laid. You wouldn't believe the amount of times… Sorry, off topic. But back to the Purifiers; you'll need a lot of firepower to fight them. Like, a LOT more than men and women."

"What about my kind?" Grace suggested. "If you think bullets won't hurt them, maybe claws will?"

"Could just brute strength it." Brooks said, a smile creeping up on her face. "Got a whole bunch of 'Claws willing to lend a hand, sugar? Or a nail?"

"I believe if you three would help them with a certain… problem… they'd help out."

"Hmm, well there's nothing old Jace can't handle." the – slightly – chubby man said. "I've seen it all, and there is ab-so-lute-ly nothing that can stand against m-"

"Onyx Deathclaws with glowing crimson eyes." Grace cut in.

"Ah, now _there_ is something I would love to see!"

Ryder said, "I bet you'd shit your pants."

"Nothing can beat me! Just watch!"

"Do you know where they are holding up? A base or something?" Ryder asked, wanting to get as much information as possible. Brooks looked unsure before replying.

"They're up in the mountains north of my – _former_ – ranch. I've seen the entrance to their bunker and you aint getting through. Unless you had some way of blowing a gigantic hole in the ceiling, or you were able to get inside without alerting anyone. In which case, you'd need one of their power armour suits… and a good story."

"Why not both?" Jace said. "If they have a big generator, you could blow it up from the inside, force them out of position, we come in – Deathclaws and humans – and boom! Take em' out like the trash."

Brooks quickly replied, "Sure, Jace – the Raider who Could – go capture a Purifier suit and waltz right in. I'm sure no one will ask who you are or why you're there."

The Deathclaw said, "It's a solid plan, we just need some time to figure things out."

"And a few more fighters." Ryder whispered. "But we'll be right."

"It's a stupid plan." The ghoul remarked. "But… if it gets rid of Bessie and Seth – and I get to meet some more talking 'Claws – then I'm down."

"Splendid!" came from Jace's big mouth. "Shall we be off then? Where is this sanctuary for the other Grace's?"

"Just over that way." Grace points north. "We can get there before the night comes."

The traders were bothered by Grace's presence, saying it was bad for business, but the humans bought some things that kept the complaints down. Jace had gone and grabbed his uzi pistol before travelling to this trading post so he bought a few more clips. Brooks simply brought more cigarettes, and Ryder got two packs of Mentats for the trip.

As they set off, Ryder was last to leave the table. And when the three others were about ten meters away, someone – a hooded girl – came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"May I?" she asked, waving to the leftovers – which they had simply dismissed or forgotten. He nodded and she sat and ate gleefully. Something was pulling him to know who this was, the way she scoffed it down, the ways he spoke, it reminded him off…

"Who are you?" he asked. At first she didn't respond, but after a third mouthful she did.

"Veronica."

"Your alone?"

"Yes."

"You don't have a family or-"

"I would appreciate it if you leave me."

He stood awkwardly there for a moment before walking away. But that was when it hit him. He pulled out the small disk-thing he found in the bunker and read its label again. "For Veronica" he came up behind her sitting form and placed it carefully down on the table. She eyed it, then him. She opened it up quickly, so fast that he missed it. A small voice belonging to Elijah said a few words. Nothing harmful, yet it looked like it hurt Veronica a lot.

"I'm sorry." he said, after it was done.

"Thank you. For taking a chance on me."

He bid her farewell and left.

 **4**

Ryder told the tale of the Madre to Brooks and Jace. At first neither one believed him, but after a while – and a few words put in from Grace – they were mentally taking notes on every word he said.

Brooks said she'd heard of the Sierra before, and knew all too well by Ryder's descriptions that he had been there, and it was no lie.

"Then! Grace here got put in these kennel things! I had to carry her out to safety!"

"What?" Jace asked, now as gullible as a puppy. "You carried her out?"

"Yep! Like this!" He put his arms out.

"Oh! Like bridal style?" Brooks pointed out.

"Yeah! She had one hand on her forehead and everything!"

Grace shook her head and said, "I think your imagination is putting your story off. It didn't go down like that."

"You were half passed out, you don't know!"

She wanted to say, _and you were half drugged_ but didn't want to ruin the moment. She found the mental image amusing, being carried by him. She wondered if he could, and laughed it off.

"You wouldn't be able to carry her." Jace said. "She's way, way, _way_ too big."

"Your one to talk, fatty." the Deathclaw replied quickly. And although everyone _but_ Jace was laughing, his voice was still proud and dramatic.

"I prefer 'festively plump' thankya very much."

Bugs hummed in the backdrop, thirsty for the light. Their eyes adjusted, and they could go on long into the night without light's aid, but they would need to get to wherever they were going soon before the moon exhausted all its help.

"Ryder." said the ghoul, getting his attention. He walked by her and Graces side, Jace was at the far right end of their travelling line. "That's not a slaver tattoo is it?"

Unconsciously, Ryder tapped the curly black V that painted his eye with two fingers. "No, no nothing like that."

His face was one of brooding, he didn't quite raise his voice high enough for Grace to think he was acting normal. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace examined the V, thinking it might reveal something to a trained eye. It couldn't have been drawn on, no, it looked to deep, maybe a cut?

Brooks sighed, maybe in relief. "Well, as long as you aint a slaver. Like that raider over there."

"Hey! I'll have you know I backed out." Jace motioned to himself. "Because _I_ , have a good heart."

Grace curiously asked, "How do you two know each other? Friends, or…?"

The Deathclaw got two answers, Jace said that yes, they were best friends, but Brooks said that no, they were merely acquainted. She asked Brooks to elaborate because Jace radiated lies.

"He came to my ranch once. Wanted our money, saw how many of us there were, and gave _me_ his wallet and ran. You still wore that metal armour, didn't you Jace? And that gun. You've made little progress, haven't you?"

"I'll have you know I recruited about a million guys and gals to my cause. That's the same number of people you've slept with, isn't it?"

"Oh I'd slap you, but that would be animal abuse."

Jace ignored her. "Oh what I'd do to get some of that cool-ass armour. You know, thick combat vest, like yours Ryder. Dark green fiberglass gauntlets, polished metallic boots. Oh yeah, I can see it now… Mmmmm, and a big gun…"

Ryder, Brooks and Grace looked at him in a way that only those belonging to asylums would get.

"Fine. Put me down guys. I'll keep getting back up!"

Ryder finished his tale then and there. When he was done he took a long drink from a bottle within his cloak. He offered it to Brooks but she had an even scruffier robe that held tiny little brown packets she called 'Em-are-ees' and said she would be good for a while. Jace waved it off when he was offered, saying thirst couldn't hold him back. Grace thanked him and took a swig, then offered a warning to her human companions.

"When we get there, you all have to show the utmost respect to the four leaders. I think bowing will do the trick. I'll introduce you all, please don't do anything… stupid. I don't think many of them have even seen a human before. But some of them hate you."

"That's kinda racist." Brooks said, scratching her flakes for hair. "What about ghouls?"

Grace shrugs, Jace spoke next in a voice that rapidly sped up towards the end.

"Probably think your some sort of boogey-woman, cause you're so-OW!"

The ghoul had somehow raced over and clipped Jace on the ear before he had even finished. Grace observed them with Ryder at her side, she smiled, but, a hint of worry accompanied it.

Ryder drifted into her view and grinned. "It'll all be all right, Grace. C'mon, we're good with others, aren't we?"

"Why sure. Only half of them wanted to kill us. Or was it more than that?" She saw the way he reacted to this, he was smiling shamefully. Her eyes scanned him over once, and she added, "But, we make a good pair."

His smile widened ever so slightly. "I couldn't agree more."

 **5**

Dalon was waiting for her, not far from the church, but close enough to smell Grace and her new friends before anyone else could.

At first, Jace and Brooks were a bit hesitant, when they saw him tearing down a great hill towards them at an even greater speed. He was a bit bigger than Grace, so he was fairly taller than all of them. He was a few paces in front of them when he stopped, his eyes blank and unfocused. He looked much more toned and muscled than Grace, clearly male – with horns bigger than arms.

Dalon asked Grace who they were, but, all the humans heard were growls, mumbles, and even an occasional gruffly bark of some sort.

They did nod and shake their heads at one another like humans would, but that was as close to understanding them as they could get. Jace whispered something to Brooks, but she merely nudged him away with a shoulder when the Deathclaw walked up to them.

"Uh, G-Grace?" Jace whispered, eyes on the approaching predator.

"Dalon's all right." Is all she said.

Dalon leaned in to Jace's face and breathed in. he then put one hand to his metal shoulder – which was actually padded with small spikes – and pricked his finger on a spike. He did this on purpose, but for an unknown reason. He moved to Brooks and touched her arm with a hand. She pulled out an unseen hanky and dabbed it to her face. "Oh my," she whispered, "I didn't know we'd be undergoing a physical!"

Dalon huffed. "Hmm!" And moved on.

Ryder didn't recognise this Deathclaw, it was simply that – an animal. But when its face closed in on his, he recognised that his eyes weren't simply unfocused or bland, but pretty much gone altogether. He knew they were _shot_ out – by a gun of decent calibre.

 _If this is one of the survivors of Quarry Junction, I'm out of luck. It'll recognise my smell and gut me right here._

But it didn't do either of those things. It simply pulled a blank smile and tapped his shoulder twice. It motioned for them to follow, and they did. The humans lingered behind enough so as to talk without being overheard – although it couldn't understand them (they thought).

"What do you think it was doing?" Jace murmured.

"Feeling me up, he was!" Brooks yelled, though she didn't sound angry.

"Relax, were coming up to our Home now." Grace added over her shoulder.

The Deathclaw sanctuary pulled them forward. The cathedral was grasping onto life, half stuck into the ground but still quite large in their eyes. The cross that hung above its twin grand doors still shone in the dying light. A place of god it was, but maybe not the god it used to serve.

The two Deathclaws went to the doors. The humans stood ready to enter (or as ready as they could be). It looked so well kept, as if the Deathclaws had done a makeover.

Dalon put one hand on each door, twisted his neck round to face the humans and said in a manly yet muffled voice…

"Welcome to Home."

 **6**

 _Variation._

If Ryder described what he saw in Home, it would be that lone word.

He counted maybe thirty Deathclaws, either sitting on benches, the floor, the booths or anywhere. But no two of them were the same. A giant albino one, a tiny blue one, or a moderately sized bluish-grey one. Some were short – maybe smaller than him – others were downright _massive_. And the horns, by God the horns, like spawns of hell they were. But the range of shapes and sizes – skinny and thin, or fat and brutish – he never knew Deathclaws could hold so much diversity.

His face beamed disbelief, he was both amazed and terrified at the same time. So many bright yet intelligent eyes stared back at him, he knew _he_ was the alien in the hall, but still, to see so many colours… He bet if he learned all their names, he would have no problem distinguishing them.

The hall was solid on one side, but the other was tinted glass filled with sensational colour patterns, he'd like to see it during the day, with the sun at the perfect angle.

The grand space was dominated by long seats, but the far end was the podium, where he had no doubt in believing that was where whoever the leader spoke.

Dalon moved up the aisle and disappeared 'backstage' or wherever that place was called. The crowd of deadly onlookers piled up on either side of the rugged carpet walkway – short ones up front, taller ones at the back.

"Oh my… I feel like a celeb on the red carpet." Brooks said dismissively, her mind was in another place, she probably thought she was dreaming.

Jace the Raider, was lit up like the sun. Whether out of happiness, or trying to hide his fear, Ryder knew not.

With the ghoul and raider on his right. Ryder was quite close to the aisle edge. And there, right next to him, was an whitish-grey Deathclaw at his exact size, it had curly horns, like screws, and had eyes like moons. It shied away when he looked at it, but it eventually reached out a hand and poked at his rib, not out of harm, but out of curiosity.

He laughed lightly, and held out a hand. It at first looked at him, saying _what the fuck is that?_ with its plate-like eyes. But it slowly brought its hand forward to meet his, and shook it lightly.

Like a fan who had met their most beloved singer, it quickly darted away into the crowd, Ryder could faintly see its hand covering its mouth, as if to say _oh my gosh, no way!_

Grace came up to him, a great smile on her face that lifted his spirit higher than a million caps could ever do.

"What did I do?" he asked, trying to spy the pale Deathclaw he scared off, but it was gone.

"Oh, she's just a little bit shy."

"A shy 'Claw huh?"

Jace was shaking not one but _two_ hands with the crowd on the opposing side, quite enjoying the attention. Brooks was currently being looked over by a Deathclaw that could only be the size of a small truck, yet she didn't look the least bit intimidated.

"They're here." Grace said.

"Who?"

"The Four. Jace, Brooks, and you, must go up the aisle to meet them."

They nodded and got ready to walk down to the podium.

But when no one would walk, Jace motioned for Ryder to go first. "No disrespect, but, it is _your_ idea, after all."

Ryder didn't even bother arguing. He took the walk without a word. The ghoul and raider on his flanks.

Like blades of grass dancing in the wind, Deathclaw arms drifted in his direction as he walked down the aisle. He walked slowly, planning each step, savouring time, as it soothed his soul to be around pleasant company. Only a few minutes in and he already felt this place _was_ Home. He put his palms out to his sides, grazing over the hands that longed for his touch. He had no idea why he did it, it just felt right to do so.

Just a bit higher than him was the podium, and behind it, he saw four Deathclaws – two grey, two blue's – shortest on the left, tallest on the right.

He heard the boots of Jace and Brooks stop on his sides, then the world was still.

The Four stared, expectantly.

 _Now's the time to bow,_ he thought. Though truth be told he forgot about Grace's bowing advice before, so he had no idea why he had that thought.

He made a low bow, right hand on his chest – as if it was natural. He spied the other two and watched them. Jace extended his left leg forward, had his left hand out to his far side, and put his head down. It looked rather over done, but that's probably Jace as a whole – his body was bent so far forward he might trip in the slightest movement.

Brooks simply did a curtsy, bending her knees forward and gripping an invisible skirt in her fingertips.

What was weird, was that they all had their right hands on their chests. The Four also did something similar to them, three of them bowed, one of them curtsied.

"Who are you?"

Ryder looked up. The one third from the left had spoken in perfect English. Old. Yet it struck Ryder right where he least expected it to hit.

The leader – the Al – wasn't talking to Ryder, no, he was talking to the raider on his flank. Luckily he knew this and remained quiet. The Deathclaws gathered all around them, they could die here at the slightest indication of a leader.

"Jace, of the Wastes."

The raider spoke with renown difficulty, as if he was trying to say something else, but couldn't.

Al nodded, seemingly pleased, and turned to the ghoul.

"And who are you?"

Slowly, deeply, as if his voice was in there heads. She replied much the same way – perplexed, toned to a way that one would talk about something they knew nothing of.

"Brooks, of the Old Times."

Now the Al met Ryder's gaze, they held it for a while. He was lost in those twin fires, so much renown potential for greatness.

"And you?"

Although he replied, he found it confounding that he let them escape his lips. He would never utter those words, it was a life he wanted to bury, to lock away and toss the key. Yet that voice filled with life pulled it out of him.

"Ryder, of the Verl's."

The Al and the other three nodded slowly. The crowd sighed blissfully, but they sounded distant.

"This one." said the second from the left. A grey, with deadly spikes on his back, sharper than any other. His name was Yadon, but Ryder knew not how. "This one, the emissary… the _courier_ of D'law's Gift."

"Gift?" Ryder whispered.

"You and Grace call them _tats_."

"Ah. You've had some then?" He eyes the crowd behind them. "All of you?"

Most of the crowd – plus the Four – nods nonchalantly.

"Tell us why you've come, Ryder."

It was Yadon speaking, curiosity filled his accent.

"To help you." he answered.

"Against the Dark? It is not out of the goodness of your heart, isn't it? What do you want in return?"

" _Your_ help."

"A fair exchange." Al put in. "But we are few against many. We only have each other, Home is… defenceless. Three-" He looked at Brooks. "- _humans_ are welcome to help, but I fear it may not be enough."

"It might not, but I have a solution." Ryder said, bringing a hand to his cloak. The Deathclaws seemed to lean in further towards him, their eyes hungry wanting to know what he was to show them.

He pulled out a little green box.

Brooks whispered so that only he could hear her words.

" _Mentats?!"_ she yelled/whispered. "They're eating Mentats? That's… odd."

"Do you have anymore?" Al asked, slightly more excited now.

This time Brooks answered. "Oh, I believe we could get enough to get you all into rehab!"

"If that means we have more of the _tats_ , then to rehab we go!" the Al cheered, and eventually, was joined by the rest of the Deathclaws, who stomped there feets and growled approval.

"But before then! We would give you a proper welcome to Home." Al said with a hint of worry. "There is serious work ahead, folks. But for now, let's eat." The crowd started up again, but with a wave of arms he quieted them. "I don't know if you humans brought your own rations, but there is no reason for you not to eat and drink what you have with us. Join us, join the feast!"

A sense of foreboding wouldn't leave Ryder. Much like these weird thoughts on knowing what these things names were. It was like a sound. Like a fist on a coffin.

 **6**

From the shadows of the church came more unseen inhabitants, carrying long tables and trestle benches by both ends and setting them up in the free spaces on either side of the podium. It was quite a sight to behold when more than fifty or so dishes were to choose from. It was all meat, but there were a few greens here and there, and it all appeared to be cooked. Ryder thought they must've had a chef back there, wearing a big white hat and an apron, and immediately burst out laughing. The Deathclaws around him studied him, like Grace did a long while ago in that saloon in Goodsprings.

It all started with a toast to 'D'law' and everyone held up a cup of murky drink when certain Deathclaws poured them in every cup on the tables. Ryder grabbed one and held it high, like everyone around him did.

"May D'law let us thrive in pleasant company!" Al cried, and downed his cup, if nothing else; the Deathclaws of Home certainly knew how to down graf that made his eyes water.

Ryder followed through after a moment's hesitation, he held it in his throat and swallowed – barely. As did Brooks, who was a bit off to his side and seemed to enjoy it. But Jace… he spat it out, but the 'Claws near him simply laughed and handed him another.

Something larger than him came to him. He knew it was Grace, for she didn't look as much a brute as any other, nor did anyone else have her tone of skin – a blue/green combo that suited only her.

Ryder asked disgustedly, "What _is_ this swill?"

She only smiled as she downed her own – which could've been her second or third. She waved to a table with two free spots and said with good heart, "Care to sit with me?"

He did. On the walls, Brooks was helping two albino 'Claws strike up torches that lined the sides. The moment they were lit the church felt like it had come alive after a long slumber, or maybe the light was playing tricks on his eyes.

"You did well. Al and Yadon are very pleased."

She was on his right with a plate of what Ryder assumed to be meat from a Brahmin. Cooked, but, he might pass it up for now.

"I know… How _do_ I know that? It feels so… it's like…"

She tilted her head one way, facing him. "Like you're in their heads? Like we're in _yours_?"

"In a way, yes."

"It's just a start… I don't mean to sound ironic but, it's like we are… beginning again. It's nothing more than a feeling in the back of your head, but I think in time, it will be so much more. You've spent a bit of time with me, maybe that's why your more… effected, then the other two."

He heard laughter behind him. It was Jace, and he was waving his arms about in front of two taller ones – most likely telling a tale.

"So your… in my head."

"Ryder!" she said, putting a hand to her chest. "Do you not… _like_ that?"

"No!" he defended. "It's just – I'm not used to that!"

She did that small colourful laugh of hers. "I'm joking, sugar."

"Sugar?" He smiled. "Why're you calling me that?"

"Thought it sounds nice."

"Hmm. Yeah, yeah your right. But, I have a question."

She made a motion with her fingers. _Go on_ , they said.

"Well, how can Al and Yadon speak? Surely that wasn't in my head."

"I can tell you myself." came a voice behind him. It was Yadon – deadly spikes – and he sat on Ryder's left. He was holding what could only be two crude versions of a radroach kebab. He offered one to Ryder but he shook his head.

"I grew up in the below-lands. At least, I think I did. I never saw the sun until I was as grown up as I am now."

"Below-lands?" Ryder asked. "You mean, underground?"

Yadon nods. "Yes, giant metal machines surrounded everything. There were humans and 'ghouls' like your friend over there living in there with me. Not friendly. It was a pain to leave."

"Did humans teach you to speak?"

"No. I knew how to speak instantly. Before the underground was… water, and… voices. I don't know how I even ended up there. But I never want to go back through the cog."

"Cog?"

"Like a door, but looked like a big metal cog you see in old world machines."

Ryder had an epiphany. "Was there a number on the door?"

"No, someone I met in there thought it would've had one. But when I looked all I saw was a..."

With his finger, he draw a line in the air – top right to bottom left. "Nothing more. I wandered after that, glad to be rid of it. I came here and never left. The Vault might've had something in the air that made everyone understanding everything, the humans talked to me, I talked to them. At least, that's how I think it works."

"I'd like to hear all about it sometime."

"And I would like to share it. But it would take us well into the night, and the Dark Ones won't wait around for me to finish."

"Sure, but, what about Al? How can he talk?"

"You would have to ask him yourself."

"Anyone else in this Pack that can talk?"

"Dalon." said Grace. "I taught him a little when I came. Maybe you can help everyone speak as well?"

"I… don't know if… I guess I could try."

She put an encouraging hand on his back. "You got me chatting away, didn't you? Besides, the others have quite a few questions to ask you."

Grace motioned behind her, where three smaller ones were looking at him like cats would in the night.

"But for now let's just eat." said Yadon. "Would you like some of my Clawbab?"

"Don't you mean _ke_ bab?"

"No."

"Sure."

It _was_ actually quite tasty. Brooks plonked down opposite him with two slabs of meat still on the bones of a long dead animal in both hands. She was tearing into one like a… Deathclaw would.

"You know," Brooks said. "I never expected so much food to be put on plates, let alone knives and forks. I thought you'd all eat like me."

"Just because we are animals," Yadon replied highly. "doesn't mean we have to eat like it."

"How do you get so much?" she said, mouthful, so its sounded like she had numb cheeks.

"Scavenge, build, whatever. We get by."

"It's pretty weird, but weird in a cool way."

" _Your_ weird, Brooks. And please, don't eat with your mouth full." Yadon demeaned. But instead of an insulting reply, he got a laughing ghoul bark instead.

"Sugar, you just made my day." Brook said.

Yadon shook his head and might've slapped himself. "What did she just say?"

"She said sugar, sugar." Grace said.

"Sugar?"

"Sugar." Grace confirmed.

"Huh. Sugar… sug- _arrrrrr._ Funny word."

Ryder nudged him and nodded with a smirk and said, "Sugar woulda coulda."

Grace felt the need to add in. "Sugs, I… wait, what _is_ sugar?"

Brooks started to explain.

 **7**

The feast went long into the night. Already they could hear laughter in nearly every corner on the banquet hall. That weird animalistic laugh the Deathclaws had were slowly morphing into more human tones. Some even mimicked words that Brooks and Jace or even Ryder said to them. One albino even called Ryder a _bugger_ when he passed it, and he even heard something that sounded like _drink!_ But cheer drowned out all else.

That was until Al called out a wordless warning, and everyone went silent at his word.

"The night is old. We will turn in for today. Drake and Gabrielle will guard tonight. Our human friends are welcome to stay with us inside. The air is much too cold, and we have room."

"Well," Brooks called out from the back of the church. "Where do we sleep?"

"The crypt."

Yes, the dankest place in all of Home was where everyone (and that is reinforced, _everyone_ ) was to turn in for the night. The coffins lining the floors and walls had been pulled out and cleared for one Deathclaw to sleep in (Ryder witnessed _two_ short ones hop inside one together, maybe best pals or…?). But they were all taken by the time the three humans descended the stone steps into the 'sleeping chambers'.

"I don't know about you two," Jace said, scanning the crypt. "but spooning with Deathclaws might just be a _little_ bit too much. And it stinks a bit, like a motel room after an orgy."

Brooks replied. "There's a space over there in the corner, looks roomy, what about you Ryder?"

He was too busy spying Grace nearby. There was a spot free right next to her, and he had the smallest thought of going over there. Sure she was a Deathclaw but he had grown quite fond of her as of late. She had walked many miles just to see him, and ended up in hell itself as punishment. To go through it all just to simply find him was quite a feat that you wouldn't do for anyone, right? Maybe he should ask her…

But it didn't matter anyway. A Deathclaw – Dalon, he recalled – had beat him to it, and had laid down next to her before he even lifted one foot in her direction. He didn't spoon, and had his back to her, but he was rather close.

Ryder stood there staring – he might've looked like the Deathclaws did when they saw _him_ – for a few moments, an odd feeling creeping up his chest. A call of his name from Brooks snapped him out of it, and he glided over to the corner that was Deathclaw-free.

"I'm pooped!" said Jace, and snored a moment later. Brooks joined him, but it took Ryder a long while before he slept – and surrounded on all sides by mutant predators wasn't the reason why.

 **8**

Ryder found himself back above ground, sitting on the small steps outside the grand doors. One of the watchers (It was Gabrielle, blue, quite short) had spied him and gave him a look that said _what are you doing?_ He gave his reason and it seemed to accept it and wondered off to leave him alone for the time being.

It wasn't cramped in the crypt, although some of the beasts had gotten a _little_ to close in their sleep – and he had a suspicion it wasn't unconscious movement you'd do in your deep slumber. He had lifted of a clawed arm off of his chest and rose to the church silently with a cloudy mind.

There the moon kissed him goodnight over distant mountains. Its white rays tinkling off the distant lakes surface, bringing some peace to a war torn world – if but for a short while. He didn't need anything else to see, for there was nothing that illuminated him more than the moon.

Why was he up here and not resting? He certainly wanted it, _needed_ it, but he just didn't feel like it. Something was there, rattling him around like a mouse trapped in the maze of his head.

It was that other Deathclaw, Dalon. And his swift taking to rest by Graces side.

He knew nothing about Dalon. Never even spoke to him yet. It was just another person in the background of a greater picture. A nobody, like him, yet the only difference is the appearance. It was a simple act, that was it. He simply crouched down to rest like every other 'Claw that slept in here. There was _nothing_ wrong with him.

But why did he feel this way?

He closed his eyes and concentrated on that memory which could've only been an hour or two old. Something about it wasn't right with him. He put it in his mind's eye as best he could.

There Grace was, back turned, seemingly asleep already on a floor littered by others of her kind. The free space by her, it was just about Ryder's own size. But before he could seize it, Dalon had swooped in and took it. That's it. Nothing bad about that, right? He slept normally, didn't move an inch the moment his body met the ground – Ryder kept an eye out for that.

He didn't move a muscle. Not a leg, not an arm, not a finger. Dalon was still.

But _she_ was not.

It slipped his eye. He thought she was fast asleep but she was not. It happened so fast he was a fool to lift his eyes away but he caught a glimpse. A glimpse of Grace doing something.

She had turned over.

Did she see him? No. She hadn't, he would know, she would've said something, maybe, he would've _seen_ her fire-lit eyes meet his, like some sixth sense.

No. She was looking, yes, but not at _him_.

But at Dalon.

He wanted to cast it away. _You're over thinking it, bury it deep and leave things well enough alone._ Yes, he wanted to leave it alone, forget it all and go back to sleep. It was nothing! People always move in their sleep, he just mistook her eyes were open when they were really closed all along.

 _No. You've seen them, you saw the flames, there as real as can be._

So? What was simply _looking_ at someone supposed to mean?

 _It's the_ way _she looked at him._

The way. The same way she looked when he gave her the snow globe. So bright and… and thankful… and showing great delight and curiosity.

 _She looked_ pleased _._

Looking pleased meant nothing.

So why did he feel so damn confused? If she was happy then that was good. _He_ didn't feel good, he felt angry and scared at the same time, yet the big question (Why?) was left unanswered.

He heard a tiny pitter-patter of feet behind him, coming through the ajar doors. He felt eyes on his neck and twisted around to face them. It was another 'little one' the same size as Grace when he first 'found' her. It gave him a toothy smile and ran around him to the front of his sitting form and stood there (they were about eye level to eachother).

Ryder had one leg up and one down. Using his free hand he reached out and gave the baby 'Claw a scratch on one of its horns. It leant into his touch and said, "Race!"

He swerved his head to face it right on the eyes. he hadn't jumped like that since waking up in the Madre.

"A race? Sorry, I don't feel like it right now."

"Ame?" it asked, or maybe it was _aim_ , he wasn't sure. Ryder pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

"You should go back to sleep."

"Leep!"

"Go-back-to-mama."

"Mama? Ungry!"

"You're hungry? I don't have anything."

It did a spin, and ran off into the night. Ryder had only a moment to question why the watchers didn't catch it before he took off after it. The faint baby-blue light off the horizon sky painted the small Deathclaws figure cresting a nearby hill. He followed. His eyes adjusting to the darkness helped but only got him so far. Ryder ran into a cactus at some point, or at least it felt like it, for his right arm started to swell slightly after hitting a few dozen needles in the night. The pattering feet died down by nearby crickets that sang an endless song.

He spun on the spot, hit something else, turned, ran, and after a minute of this, came to a stop.

Great, now he couldn't even see the church. Nor his fingers when he held them up to his face.

He was on the verge of yelling out for help when he looked behind him. The lake, with its rippling surface still lit, was his salvation. Because as he drew nearer and nearer, the little troublemaker's outline could be made out over yonder.

Out here, the world was a study in blacks and whites. A rock studded slope led down to the lake, which was brad and shallow at this point. The moon burned in it like a lamp. Ryder saw a little figure down there on the rocky strand an stood still. As he did, the moon went behind a cloud and the world darkened. It was tricky, but out there, the easiest thing to see was beyond the lake on a great hill, it was the Mojave equivalent of the Sierra Madre Casino. Spiked wooden walls, bonfires tha left trails in the sky, making darkness grow darker.

The moon came out from behind its cloud. The world brightening again. He jumped down a four foot drop from the top of a chunk of rock and found his boots sinking slightly into sand. He approached wearily. The little beast seemed occupied with something on the ground next to it. Ryder looked left and right, he saw only plants. A long line of grass passed his left side, like the border between sand and dirt that stretched all the way up to the lake shore.

About five meters behind it now, he half expected it to turn and roar, or something. But no, it had its back to him and was hunched over something on the grassy sand.

He hunkered next to it, it didn't seem the least bit fazed.

"What are you…"

By its feet, was a potato plant. Quite green and bright despite the night. The Deathclaw plucked a tiny potato the size of _its_ thumb and held it up like an scrutinizing salesman would.

"Potaters? Here? You grow this?"

"Taters!" it yelped, and bit down on it.

"Did you plant it?"

It munched down eyeing him ( _uh-huh!_ ) and when there was a shrivel of tater left, it held it out to him. He shook his head.

There was a strange aura around the lake shore. Ryder half lay, half sat on the ground and drank it all in. It was so quiet, only the gentle waves (and the Deathclaw digging a small hole next to him for who knows why, maybe to plant another 'Tater!') were the only other sounds apart from his slow breaths. He knew he should take this thing back to Home, but, the serenity kept him there. It seemed make him forget his troubles for a while, and a good while it was.

Someone, or something, walked up behind him, like he had done to this little one. The large thing sat itself on his right, crossing its legs and keeping its eyes on the river. It wasn't who he expected it to be.

"I see you've met the troublemaker. I'm sorry for him dragging you out here."

Said troublemaker let itself fall over and use one of Ryder's legs as a pillow as it chewed its claws free of potato crumbs.

He waved a hand. "It's all good. I'm quite glad it did."

"The lake has a certain… effect… on everyone. Don't you think?"

Starlight twinkled off of his cloudy eye. "Yeah, I think so."

"It reminds me of the old times." said the 'Claw.

"Pre-war?"

"No, maybe… forty or thirty years ago. There was water, like this. But much more _grand_. So much, you'd never grow thirsty ever again."

"You've been on the coast? You lived in NCR?"

"Yes. NCR, we lived near a town by that name. In a great underground Vault of thirteen. These men with guns… these NCR… grew faster than we could."

"And they slaughtered you?"

"They tried but they were blind, didn't know the land like we did. I don't know if they ever found the Vault. Me and my beloved left by the Al's word to begin again and keep the pack alive. And this, Home, is our dream."

"Why are you called Al?"

"Short for Alpha."

"Ah. Right. Well, I hope we can help you with the dream."

"It is much appreciated, I look forward to working with you and the others, as does almost everyone else, I am sure."

"Almost everyone?"

"Another of the Four, Zak, to say he dislikes humans in an understatement. He wasn't from a Vault like Yadon, Aana or I. He was born from the land, and he and his followers may never see you as anything other than an outsider."

Ryder nodded in response, silence followed until Al broke it.

"Why are you up so late, Ryder?"

Should he tell him? This old and wise Deathclaw that he had only met until today? Would he tell others, or, would Grace find out? He had an urge to protect her from this, it didn't feel right for her to know.

"I couldn't sleep."

"There is no need to keep secrets, we are all… open books."

"Which may be the reason it'd be best not to tell you."

"I won't hold it against you, I know we are not the same and you have your reasons. But tell me this, it you please, was it something we did?"

"No, no… well… its nothing."

Al stood. The little one had stopped rubbing its temple on the small leaves when he did. He gave Ryder a final look of etched pity and said, "You may think words will leave cuts, but silence holds the knife. I can see in your troubled. It's in your eye."

"I wish I was that good at reading people."

"It's about Grace, is it not?"

"Race!" troublemaker put in, and continuing chewing.

"Okay fine. It's about her, alright? You got an answer, let's leave it at that."

"I apologise if I offended you, that was not my intention." He got up and started to walk away.

"Wait."

He heard Al stop and turn. "Hmm?"

"I just… don't know how to start."

"Well… you're here to help us, and we are here to help you. Come find me if you want to talk. Will you come to Home now, or…"

Ryder gave one last look back at the lake, took the tiny beast into his arms as if it were a chore, and joined Al in silence.

 **9**

It had to be about two hundred and ten years ago when she was in this exact same position.

It was a day like any other. All the people walking the streets of LA, smiling, not because of the dying world that these people are COMPLETELY unaware of, but because it was always sunny in the Land of Angels.

To her left was a great canvas of the Vincent Thomas Bridge through the window that was the wall. The dancing water show below it was like stars dazzling in the night. The effect was quite beautiful, and she wasn't alone when it came to prying your attention away from today's subject. The children in the left row had it all straightened out – the closer the better, but she would always have her eye on them .

"Miss?"

Yes the view was like a work of art… like Picasso's Starr Night almost. The way everything before and beyond the bridge was tiny, and the people walking on or below it like little ants.

"Miss Lutt?"

She shook her head lightly and faced the owner of the voice. "What? What was I saying?"

She heard a few giggles and felt her face go red. They knew her for her scolding's of not paying attention but now that she had been caught, the tables had turned.

It didn't stop her from trying to pretend that never happened. "Uh, enough. Let's get back to work. Now, who can give me an example of something visible on earth from the moon."

"The Great Wall?" one called.

"I can't believe we're involving communism!" said another.

"My dad loves communists!" cried someone from the back row.

"And that's why we beat you up!" said the first.

"Enough!" she called a bit too harshly. She coughed very lightly and fixed her voice back to her pleasant soft tone. "We won't talk about _that_ anymore. Am I understood? These are simply facts about the wonders of life… and space, god I love space…"

"Can't we talk about communists?" said a boy in the front row. "Or… maybe human sexuality…"

"Gross, Hal!" said a girl behind him. "You got a crush on teach or something?"

"Who wouldn't?" Hal replied, snickering with his two friends on his sides. Oh boy, even among the teachers she was the word. Sure the kids had their fantasies, Hal in particular, but she wasn't one to leave a guy hanging.

"Hal, you'd like to stay here with me when lunch starts?"

Hal beamed. "Huh?! Sure thing Sweet Cheeks!"

"Great, you can write 'I will not hit on the teacher' about… say… a hundred times."

"Aw man! But I think your pretty as!"

"Two hundred."

"Okay! Fine! Jeez…"

Now he and his friends were looking at their feet, they wouldn't dare meet her gaze and that was good. But Hal had sparked a fire with the class, they murmured and whispered, she heard the word 'communism' several times, and wasn't surprised when a girl – real quick, she was – asked her:

"What _is_ communism?"

"Well, its… it's a way that they… live. Like, how things work in there society is completely different to how we do it."

"What? How? Do they not have shops? Cars, even?"

"No no silly, I didn't mean it like that."

The boy with the 'communist' dad called out, "They got more money than us! More jobs! More everything!"

To which the clever girl turned in her chair and said, "They got slaves or something? Like us?"

A girl at the back. "I saw photos of slaves in the world war! My mommy works at this big science place and she saw people that looked like them! With collars!"

"Will _we_ be slaves?" said the boy in a cracked voice.

"Enough!" teach called, making all the kids shut up. "No one, and I mean _no one_ , is to talk about _that_ ever again. You all understand me?"

The twenty or so kids nodded in synchronization that they only learned through a woman's voice moulded by clear authority.

Clever girl thought she could get a last remark in. "You never said there _wasn't_ any-"

"You want to join Hal in detention, hmm? Didn't think so. I suggest what you've said here does _not_ leave this room. Understand?"

They did.

"Now. Let's… great, now I've lost my train of thought." she sighed. "Oh well, live and let, am I right?"

"Miss?"

"Yes? Miss Clever? This isn't another one of your usual snide comments, is it?"

"No, this is… different. May I?"

"Fire away."

"How long until the Bomb's come?"

The people _outside_ were oblivious to the danger. The warnings were everywhere, an example being any sort of news about the weather. Too hot up north… too cold down south… More recruitments for the Army and a growth in political tension, all manner of things, you just had to listen. 'Read between the lines' as someone had said.

The Clever Girl, _she_ listens. And now? Now the nineteen other kids have heard a dreadful question they would soon ask their parents if Miss didn't answer them. Would her answer effect these kids lives? Yes. Would it do more harm to talk then to not? Maybe. But she felt the need to sate their appetite for knowledge, but she would have to be careful. They might think she'd be a _communist_ if she said what she was _really_ thinking.

"You shouldn't be asking such things."

"Well, we all know it's bound to happen, right?" Clever Girl turned to the others and got two or three nods. "Or… _will_ it happen?"

Teach started. "Look, you-"

"Don't say not to worry, please… please don't say that."

"I wasn't going to."

"So it will happen?"

"I… you put me in a difficult spot, Miss Clever. But if you want answers, which you have as much right as I have, then you'll get them, but don't blame me if you hate what you hear. Does anyone want to step out for a few? Anyone?"

She thought maybe one would raise their little hands, but no one did.

"Fine. It… It _will_ happen."

Silence.

Miss Clever then said, "If they're gonna drop em'. Who will do it first?"

 _Us!_ Some cried. _Them!_ cried others. It was dreadful. Children! Bickering children about bombs and wars and death and slaves! Why was today of all days the one time her peaceful delicate children decided that today they would pipe up there questions best left buried?

"It doesn't matter who drops first!" she pointed out loud with cruel domination. "We are all…"

Definitely chaos erupted in the room. Radom children cried out random acts of panic.

" _Dead_? No!"

"Gods have mercy!"

"I wanted to get laid before I went!"

"We're all gonna die?!"

"Children! Children!" She tried controlling the class of kids that could only resemble an angry mob at this point. "For God's sake calm yourselves!"

For the time, they did.

"I don't know what has gotten into you all. Must bad a bad day for science... Look, listen well, are you all listening? Good. Your all so young, problems like these… we only have to hope that it doesn't happen to you all, to _anyone_. It's not going to happen at anytime soon."

What happened next was irony in its prime.

A great fire show erupted out in that beautiful view of the metropolis of L to the A. Because there, between the two towers of that bridge, the horizon erupted into an epic display of pure destruction. Now she and every other being in the room had been hypnotized by the (now no longer) extraordinary view.

There was a thud. Terrible. Not like a foot on wooden floors but something that promised the annihilation of everything she knew.

And then? White.

After?

Silence.

…

All that was a two hundred year old memory. Yet it was fresh in her mind as if it had _burned_ itself into her mind. She never knew how she had emerged from that ruined building to live, but she knew _why_. She didn't know why _then_ but she sure as hell knew it _now_. For her purpose was brought down into two rather simple words.

To teach.

The only difference was that instead of a grand view of the Thomas Bridge in LA through a plain screen, it was now a delicate pattern of red and blues and greens, but it was all dominated by a hue of orange from the sun that lingered right behind it as it crept up in the days passing.

That, and the fact the children were still _children_ per se, but they were now little and big beasts she had once called animals but now called them friends.

For you see, she had a way of leaving her mark. Both in mind and in talk, for the animals who could laugh could now sing if they chose to once she was through with them.

Her eyes were on that golden canvas of classical Christian beauty. That shadow the sun cast through the patterns… it was almost _exactly_ like the Bomb and its gift of light.

"Brooksey?"

The light of God brought only death… terribly beautiful. True potential for extinction. yet only _she_ lived on…

"Brookie?"

"What? What… was I saying?"

 _Déjà vu…_

"You were talking about… Amedica. And the old times."

They were all near the crystal wall, the 'students' sitting on the floor while she was on a chair. Her legs crossed in front of her and a look of nostalgia on her wrinkled face. Guess she had a thing for looking out windows.

"Right. You mean 'America'?"

The one she was talking to was about as high as her hips. But he wasn't alone. Her class was twelve strong, some big, some little, but all of them were like children to her. Not to say they weren't smart, they were all brainiacs, but she taught them all to talk fluently, and what better way to master the art of the tongue then to talk about history?

"Amedica, yes."

Brooks shook her head. "America."

"Amedica."

"A-me-ri-ca!"

"A-me-di-ca."

It was like teaching an exchange student English. Which was – now that she thought about it – EXACTLY what was going on right now.

"Can't you hear her, Ganon?" said a female 'Claw (the new worlds Miss Clever). "She's sayin Amerira."

And so the chain continued. "Ameriga" or "Amerita" were but a few examples. She lifted a finger of authority and the church fell silent. Only the 'Claws doing the rounds with Jace outside was the only thing accompanying the silence.

"I think you all need to work on it. Even you, Miss Clever."

"Hey! I'm called Zun! Not Clever!"

"Your certainly _not_ clever…" said Ganon, and was rewarded with a small slap from Zun. Brooks simply smiled away.

Ryder had been lingering behind her class, arms folded but a look of pure fascination was present about him. She and him had quite a good first chat after the first night spent in the crypt (which was about… a week ago). It turned out he liked music, and she had heard a lot of his songs and asked him if he wanted to start up a band together. But no, he didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She told him that since he was from east coast and she was from the west that it was only natural to despise one another back in the day. He looked a bit clueless when she asked him if he was Brooklyn or maybe New Jersey.

"What's a Brooklyn?" he had asked. "And a new jersey? God, Pre-War is weird."

"You're in a church full of talking Deathclaws, I'm teaching them and Jace's… well, doing _something_ out there. But if THIS isn't weird to you, then I don't know what is."

"It's quite exciting though, huh?"

"Very."

The young man came closer after the last Deathclaw student had left this side of the hall. He took a seat while Brooks rolled a smoke opposite him.

"You're a very good teacher."

She gave a warm smile and brushed back her hair with one hand, as if to say _oh you…_

"I do what I do. You should join up – the students, that is – no offense, but I can tell you're a bit of a…"

"Dipstick?"

"Oh wow, your too hard on yourself. I wasn't going to say… okay maybe I was, but still. You need to work on your self-esteem."

"I'm dumb. I get it."

"Ha! It's like… I can imagine you right now. Like Teen Wolf, you're smart now, but when the moon comes out , it signifies your return to the brain level of a vegetable… C'mon, that was funny!"

Ryder ignored that last part and changed subject. "You get the supplies today?"

"Yep. I got you that little sumin' sumin' you wanted. Here." She pulled out a familiar green box and handed it over. "Not too many, sugar. For everyone's sake."

"How many then?"

"They're called one-a-day Mentats."

"Yeah but how many do I take?"

After a moments consideration, they both burst out laughing (thank D'law Ryder was too). Once the fit had ceased, Ryder put out a hand for a smoke, she went to give him one but pulled back at the last moment. "Are you old enough, bud?"

"Ha-Ha. Very funny. I'm twenty, give us."

She did. They smoked away in silence, a small ringing sensation filled the halls. A baby squealed in the back of the hall – the restricted section, Brooks named it, since she saw black books back there – an albino 'Claw jumped through a hole in the window on the opposite side, playing tag, most like. Brooks eyed the podium and the decorations above and behind it. The Jesus Cross, but, without the man himself hanging on it.

"D'law forgive us for smoking pot." she mused.

"Didn't know _you_ were a follower of the Faith." Ryder sighed after a pause.

"It seems a little bit nicer than the cults of today or back when. They haven't asked me to convert or anything, yet I believe them the more they talk about it. It's so… similar, yet… They have their own versions of God. D'law. Listen to it. _D'law… D'lord… The Lord._ But then 'Deathclaw' starts with D and ends with law. It's all so very strange. Not only do they talk but they are _religious._ "

"Seems religion always finds a way to live on. Like humans, right?"

"Right. Like humans. At first I was a bit sceptical, but these guys are so _human_ in many ways. Like your lady friend. Oh if I hadn't met her…"

"Yeah, heh. She's great, isn't she?"

"And you've got your eye on her."

He would've choked on his smoke had he not been holding it out at that moment. "What? What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I saw you eyeing her on the first night."

A small bug walked across the floor. Ryder found it better to look at than her. "You are… wrong."

She folded her arms, the joint poking from the corner of her mouth. "Honey, I've been alive for two hundred something years, I know what look you gave her. I know when people shy away from something that they want no one to know about." She nearly said _I'm quite the player, back in my day,_ but instead said, "I've seen it all."

"I think I might go and… do anything else right now."

Before he could get up she grabbed his arm and said, "Don't think she aint noticing you bud. She's fond of you, I think."

"R-Really?"

"Do I look like I'm pulling your leg?"

"No, but your pulling my arm, and it kinda hurts."

"Alrighty." she said, letting go. "But take my words to heart, okay?"

"Please. Don't tell anyone…. especially Jace."

"Not a word."

Two of the Four appeared from the restricted section. Aana and Al. They walked together but not _quite_ as close as they thought two lovebirds should. They raised a fist each to their chests and bowed, the humans did the same.

"Ryder, you are quite handy with human weaponry." Al stated. "We have one here if you'd like to use it."

"Sure, where is it?"

They pointed up and he looked. It was a small room protruding out of the roof with what looked like a few sets of stairs that dangled below it. It might've been a bell tower at some point. Now it looked like a howitzer had shelled it.

"It's up there?" Ryder asked.

"Mhmm." Aana said.

"How do we get up there?"

Al said, "You can't."

"Well why tell me then?"

"We thought you had an idea."

Ryder rubbed his hands together. "Well you know what? I think I just might."

 **10**

Before the Bombs dropped, one might've called what happened in that church one thing. A Castell: a tower of human bodies. But soon, Brooks would dub this event as a _Clawtell_ , and laugh whenever it was mentioned. A ring of five Deathclaws were the base, four stood on top of them, three on them, and so on. The Deathclaws found this event rather amusing, and it brought probably the whole Pack to come and join either the spectating crowd or the tower itself.

Like a boy ready to play on his first rock climbing wall, Ryder had finally coordinated the 'Claws enough so as to make a reasonably stable ladder of animals up to the prize that awaited up top. He stood at the base giving last minute checks to make sure all was well.

"All is well!" the Clawtell replied in one great voice of New York and Los Angeles accents. Ryder gave a thumbs up behind him (Jace was waving his hands, so were a few others, like a crowd at a rock band) and approached the tower. He grabbed one horn off of a 'Claws face with one hand, a foot for his other, and started his climb.

He got to second base no problem, he used a big snout as a foothold and got an annoyed grumble as response. "Sorry!" he said. ('Damn human.' it replied silently) And continued onwards. He slipped a few times, but there was always the 'Claws to catch him or stop him. He had faith in them and he was glad they were always on their toes (or heads, in this case.).

Before he knew it he was at the second to last ring, just a few feet from the towers reach. But there was Grace, at the peak of the Clawtell. Waiting for him with a nice smile that wasn't toothy in the slightest, her chops might've looked dangerous to the unwithered, but not him. Ryder admired it.

"And Jace says you're a bit dull!" she said, when she took his hand and hoisted him up. His feet balanced on two heads and he wobbled slightly on the spot.

"He said that?"

"And he's dead wrong!"

Ryder rubbed his hair like Brooks had done. As if saying _oh I have my moments…_

"You're probably the first person to say something like that to me in, well, ever."

She was about a head higher than him by now. And as he looked up at her he swore she brightened up at that. "That's…. hard to imagine. Your serious?"

He drooped ever so slightly. "Afraid I am."

"Not even your parents? Or…"

A little but more of a slouch. "Nope."

"Well forgive me if I don't believe you." she replied, getting a laugh out of him yet.

"Thanks, Grace."

"You're welcome, Ryder."

Her voice… it was so warm, so cosy, like a blanket that wrapped around his ears. Not a day went by when her accent didn't made him smile. And since he had come here almost all the others had adopted his accent as well. But hers was different… special.

Ryder said, "You know-"

"Can we hurry this along?" called the Deathclaw his left foot was standing on. "Your boot will leave a mark if you don't watch it."

"Right, sorry." he said, but he and Grace sniggered as she helped hoist him up and onto the rotten wooden step above her. He put one foot after the other and quickly darted up them to solid ground in the tower.

He had a great view of the entire surrounding area. He never noticed how hilly the church grounds were until now. To the west was the metropolis of Vegas, ever bright even during the day. To the east was the lake, still grand and pleasant even at a distance. North were the great canyons and beyond that the mountains, where apparently nothing was except for the 'Dark Ones' that come from that dark terrible place. Ryder needed to see these things to believe the descriptions Grace and the others gave him.

"Ryder?" Grace called up. "What do you see?"

"A great view and… holy shit."

"Shit that is holy? Hey! Everyone!"

"No! I mean, forget I said that!"

He didn't care if Grace heard that or not, for he was mesmerized by what was lying against one of the guard rails beside a skeleton with a ghostly smile that said, _Sleepy? I sure am!_

It was a long, deadly rifle with a wooden stock that curved inwards. A few scratches donned its main body but they lost themselves in the silver body below a scope that – when he looked through it – still had range markings and crosshairs. The actual barrel was as long as a leg, and its muzzle was quite fat and looked out of scale.

On the skeletons cloak (similar to Ryder's own) was two boxes of ammo holding extremely large golden bullets. The box was labelled as so:

.50 MG, Ball

675 GR. FMJ

15 CARTRIDGES

"Fuckin-A." he said, lifting the beast off of the ground. "Its Christmas in Deathclaw land."

He twisted back to the Clawtell, but Grace was gone! He peaked over the hole in the floor and saw the Deathclaws scuttling about to the exit. He called out for an explanation but they must not have heard him. In a few seconds, the church was empty.

"What in the world…"

He un-hunkered and turned to view the outside world – rifle in his hands. What he saw when he peered out over the short walls of the tower was so much worse than the Madre, so much worse than going to hell might've been, for what was lined up down there on the hills by the church was something that no human was ever meant to see.

Because down there (he was glad to be up high, but was terrified nonetheless) was Deathclaws the size of trucks and cars. All of them darker than night itself. On each one of their draconic faces were two great pupils like moons… blood moons. He heard someone call in English down below,

"The Dark Ones are here!"

"And you'll pay for your sins." A Dark One called back, a voice of pure death one would expect from mutated demons.

But this was not all. No, it couldn't be. For across from the Dark hill was a cliff twice as high but just as close. And on that cliff, three powerful figures wearing suits of iron – wielding machine guns – posed themselves menacingly. The sun shone there triumph, and the one in the middle removed its helmet – which looked similar to a bug of some sort.

Behind it came a spectacled man with red hair and a scar for a smile. The creep looked no different from all those days ago. The eyes… just a little too wide. The chin too deep.

"It's time." Seth drawled. "Lie down and die, animals. Don't you recognise the devil when he's got a suit of power armour on?"


	16. Chapter 16: Dusk to Dawn

**Dusk to Dawn**

 **1**

An immense wave of hate washed over Ryder when he saw the redhead's outlandish face. Just a way out over there, within hearing distance, was one of the men responsible for his quote unquote 'death'. Had Seth and the Brahmin Bessie tracked him here? That was unlikely. He was dead as could be, did they hear a rumour that he was alive? Perhaps Seth had simply stumbled across a bunch of religious Deathclaws and Ryder happened to be among them? Ryder put these thoughts aside and looked to the bigger picture.

These other Deathclaws, these _Dark Ones,_ were quite literally out of this world. The eyes were a trademark. Way to big, they could see further than even the sharpest of eyes, he reckoned. Where did they come from? They took the children, but why? And why hadn't he asked anyone these things yet? Part of him – truth be told – didn't really believe it when Grace first described them. A mistake he won't make again.

If they were to help against the Dark Ones, interference from Seth and his gang wasnot going to make things easier. The hunched figures had drawn their weapons – Seth had pulled out a flamethrower from his back, which Ryder mistook for simply thick armour – and stood ready in firing positions. Two crouched behind Seth who had pulled his helmet back on. Seth also let spits of fire drip from the machine like a tap not quite closed, a common thought of intimidation slipped through all their minds at the sight.

 _What if they're working with the Dark Ones?_

No. Not right. Couldn't be possible, and if it _was_ , then they were all up shit creak.

Ryder was not one to slip up opportunities like this. In his hands was the deadliest weapon he had ever held in his fingers. A machine that could crack open the hardest shells, the thickest hides, the toughest armours.

What better way than to test it out on someone who had a hand in his death?

So Ryder got to his feet (after Seth's calling, it was eerily quiet for a long time) and put the stock to his shoulder. It was heavy, but he levelled it with his arms dextrously. He lined the crossing black lines of the scope with the centre of Seth's head. Whom hadn't noticed the tower just yet.

He pulled back the bolt of the Anti-Material Rifle, there was a loud _KER-CHUNK!_ when he was done loading it up.

A moment. Then,

He fired.

There was a thunderous crash that echoed the lands, out here away from civilisation. So loud and unexpected that some of the 'Claws down below shuddered or covered their ears. The kick of the gun was like being punched by the biggest Super Mutant wielding a power fist. When he fired (Ryder would never tell anyone about this moment) he stumbled back and nearly accomplished a full flip by the time his back met the rotten ground of the tower. His feet went up to the heavens for a moment before setting themselves down next to the skeleton.

Ryder couldn't help but chuckle at his fall. _This_ close to falling back down to the halls. The smiling skeleton laughed with him. Its hollow eyes seeming to move with him.

But thunder struck again.

Was it always raining?

The skies were as grey as his own eyes. Yet only a moment ago it was the brightest point of day. A deadly cloud of rain was above and behind the pack of Dark Ones when Ryder got to his feet and looked. The wind met his face hard, as did giant drops of rain that slowly began to become more intense. He hoped his one-eyed shot was true, and that the weather hadn't put off his aim.

It had. Seth was still up there, but a giant indent in his shoulder had made his terrible figure stumble, and even though it was slight, it was enough to send him backwards.

Ryder quickly donned his crimson eyed helmet, pulled the mask over his chin, and went prone. This time he used the bipod to steady his shot.

Once more he lined the sights.

 **2**

He couldn't smell Tarea – the Dark Ones Al – which was a blessing. He smelt twenty Dark Ones and shuddered. There were never this many as far as memory served. But if they were to fight, then by D'law he would fight until the end for his family. To his right, the ghoul, to the left, his entire family and Grace, his childhood friend. He could feel her eagerness to stand and fight and wanted nothing more than to join her side.

The grounds had been through a lot of turmoil. Weather and war were but two causes of this. Knuckles of earth rose up, trenches of dirt sunk down. All of it random, twirling about like snakes, making weird ideograms draw upon the ground. If it hadn't been for the landscape, they would've died then and there from the first volley of bullets that rained down at them along with the water.

The ghoul jumped head first into a trench, Grace pulled him in after her. The whizzing sounds passing overhead like flies made his head drop like a rock. They peered up at the rock face where the armoured men stood, guns levelled low and peppering anything that moved. The lead figure who had un-donned and re-donned his helmet was sent flying out of view after a great crash came from above them.

The crash of Death Bringer, he concluded. For its sound was like no other.

The horrid stench of the Dark Ones drew near. They would be dead if they didn't move. And if they moved, they would be torn asunder by the flying metal from above. All he saw was blurry darkness, he could smell his way out, but not fast enough.

"Look there!" called Brooks, calm even in this state.

"I can't." he stated.

She ignored him. "Look!"

Six of the Dark Ones had started scaling the wall. Like ants scurrying from the rain they climbed faster than anyone could ever imagine for such massive beasts. Their fingers were nimble and there grips were precise. They somehow made there long nails shorter when Brooks looked closely. Brooks spied something, just before they reached the rock face the Dark Ones had jerked their arms back, almost like fist pumps, and the scythes were gone. How could such beasts control when they wanted their claws long or not?

Now wasn't the time. Although the Purifiers were distracted for now. They still had fourteen other onyx Deathclaws to worry about.

One of the biggest 'Claws – this one studied Brooks when she first arrived – gave a victorious roar and charged right into the approaching pack of demons. It held its hand high and brought it down on the lead Dark One – who was slightly smaller – one of its moon eyes burst like a pimple and sent red ooze streaming to the damp ground. Before it could slice again, two Dark's were upon it, and before Brooks could blink its ribcage could be seen being ripped away from its chest…

"Inside!" It was the voice of Al. "Back _inside!_ "

Most of the Pack didn't need to be told twice. More than half of them turned tail and made haste to the grand doors. From all the sounds of dying Dark's and the endless stream of bullets from the Purifiers came a new sound. A small mechanical trickle of a hundred bullets within a few seconds.

From a small foxhole – that wasn't there the day before – came a figure donning metallic armour painted with black stripes, the one shoulder pad had spikes with bloody tips (which turned out to be fake). He had one arm out front holding his signature uzi. The other was open and behind him, the fingers curled slightly.

In front of him was a knuckle of earth, and cresting it was another Dark One. It didn't make it far, but its dismembered arms did. They landed either side of Jace's foxhole with the palms up. "Eat it, Iguanas!" he cried, unfazed by the flying limbs.

He sprayed down a second, then a third, whose insides were as red as their eyes were. He was a sign for the other Deathclaws, three backed him up and took on any Dark's who got too close to his position. Brooks would've said that he was doing great. But…

That was until his clip ran dry.

Now HE turned tail, Brooks thought he'd run to the church but no, Jace had different plans. For the raider ran _beyond_ the doors, between two Deathclaws, and off into the west where the sun was starting to lose ground on.

" _Jace_!"

It was a loud voice belonging to Brooks.

" _Jace where the hell are you going_?"

Maybe it was the high calibre rifle on the church, or the pounding of machine guns from the cliff, or the roars of both anger and pain from the numerous swarming Deathclaws, or just simply the thunders from the storm – in any case, Jace didn't even look back as he raced away at a speed no one would think a chubby man could do.

She and Grace witnessed a human-sized Deathclaw – which had stood with Jace – get grabbed by two Dark's. At first it tried to fight, but long nails dug out its eyes to quieten it. While one Dark held it down, the other one sunk its jaws into its back and went to town on its spine. A zipping sound soon followed along with the poor 'Claws horrible cries of agony.

It shook Brooks, right down to her core, at how human it sounded. Blood curdling, as its inner body was torn apart. It reminded her too much of the moment just before the Bomb fell on LA. Beside this terrible show were several more similar situations. Any Deathclaw who fought a Dark One were mutilated, eaten, or both. She saw one albino 'Claw trying to drag a wounded blue one back to Home. Its leg completely missing. A shadow of a beast was almost upon them but another crash of a high-powered rifle sent it flying backwards.

"Okay… back to the church." Brook said after a long breath, almost at a yell to be heard over the storm.

They got up but a Dark One had spotted them and had run over to them. Its eyes were full of pure hatred as it threw its arms forward, making them cross over each other when it sliced down on its target.

Which was Grace.

She brought an arm up to shield her eyes – which was no doubt its target – and growled in pain as her arm bled. Dalon was upon it right after, and ripped off a great tag of skin from its hide on its shoulder – plucking it like a farmer would his crops. This one was quite large, bigger than Grace or Dalon, but it was taken aback by Dalon's sudden ferocity. Dalon took a few wounds and scrapes, maybe a bit too much blood, but for a blind guy he held his own. Grace went for its face and sliced a long gash down its whole left side, three red lines that already started to show dark blood. It happened so fast, and beyond them more Dark's were closing in.

To say the Dark One had a taste of its own medicine was to put it lightly. But this didn't make the scene any better. A Deathclaw pulled into a trench here, one peppered endlessly by bullets there. There were more and more Dark 'Claws and less and less friendlier ones. On top of all this was terrible thunder and the cries of death.

Two more Purifiers appeared on the cliff face. The rocks were absolutely covered by a seemingly endless supply of Dark Ones. The two of them wielded laser rifles and shot deadly beams of red light as soon as they looked down. But the 'Claws shrugged these shots off, and grabbed their legs and threw them back and over the cliff. To die from the fall would have been mercy. But those suits – those super powered death machines – compensated there falls, and they landed in similar poses on the ground. One knee planted heavily on the ground, their arms up by their sides. They landed so hard they left small craters that cracked the ground in all directions. The two that fell had there glory short-lived, for soon they were swarmed and butchered, and Brooks was sure not even those suits would keep them alive.

Dalon and Grace heeded Brooks' warning when she repeated herself. They ran for the doors were two albino 'Claws stood on each side waving them on to hurry. Brooks was the last to enter, because she took a final glance behind her to see if Jace was coming back. But it had grown too dark, almost like night, yet the time couldn't be right. Didn't matter, the coward wasn't coming back.

She was clapped on the back by one of the door guards, she entered, and the great doors slammed shut with a bang that echoed for longer than it should have.

 **3**

Ryder had picked off a few more Dark Ones. One bullet for one kill. It didn't really matter where he hit them, for these monstrous bullets where able to tear holes right through them. His aim was way off, but he held his own and covered the retreat as best he could.

He had put the boxes of ammo in his back pocket and was currently loading up his only magazine with eight more bullets, slotting them in carefully but quickly. He was still laying down with his new weapon to his side, sliding the ammo into it with a final smack of the bolt. When he heard a clicking sound coming from in front and below him, he stopped.

He glanced up, and his face met a draconic mutated lizards glaring crimson eyes. His first instinct was to cover his face – he was quite twitchy – and when he did this he was just in time to meet the razor sharp jaws.

Its mouth was as big as his head, and it would've decapitated him if he hadn't shielded himself.

It bit down.

Ryder cried in agony as its fangs dug deep into his fingers. He pounded it with his fist but he could feel how useless that was. He pulled hard, trying to pry away the Deathclaw to stop the pain that was killing him. He pulled harder and harder, and his hand came free!

But he was one finger down. The little one, to be precise. He gasped in terror and held his hands together in terrible pain. He took three steps back and pulled out his Madre pistol. While the Dark One was clambering up into the tower he fired all six bullets into its neck and chest. He thought it would stumble and fall back, but even with several bullet wounds it only seemed to piss it off more. He went to reload, but with his missing finger he lost the loader and it tumbled to the floor.

His own blood drooled down the Deathclaws face. It might've been smiling when it saw him drop the ammo. It lumbered forward with its claws posed in a state to kill.

He loaded up and succeeded this time. Ryder had a rare moment of average intelligence – some would call it epiphany, but now it might be called a _Mentatany_. So rather than fuel the rage of the predator in front of him. He aimed at its feet and fired another six rounds.

The rotten boards that were hit split in half. Whatever had been supporting this half-destroyed tower was dead when he was finished. The tower fell like a pile of ashes, the Dark One tried to hold on to something, anything, but it soon rolled off onto the roof, then met the round, a crack soon followed, maybe its leg broke.

As for Ryder, there was no ledge to grab – no pond of water awaited him – for the second time he felt the weightlessness of falling, the air rushing past, and the ground coming to meet him. He expected to hear his spine shatter at the moment he hit rock bottom, but no, instead, he found himself in the arms of a Deathclaw, held in bridal style. He looked at Grace wildly, and she did the same.

She looked up at the tower, then to him, then back to the roof again before settling a smirk at his face. "You okay?"

The rifle (and the auto loader he dropped) landed next to them, didn't break. He arched a brow and nodded. "Very."

He holstered his pistol and looked around. His eye might have deceived him, was there not as many 'Claws than before? Never mind, Brook was approaching from the entrance with pure dismay on her face.

She folded her arms and winked at Ryder, or maybe it was Grace? In any case, she scratched her chin and said, "I thought he carried _you_ , not the other way around."

Her long claws curling around his shoulders and legs tightened in the slightest. He gripped his four-fingered hand – no one had noticed it yet. "I told you he made it up." Grace said, doing that smile that – even now – still wouldn't disappear.

He met her gaze and was about to say something when the fire in his hand came back again in a pulse of mental pain. He didn't show it on the outside – not even so much as a twinge of the lips – but Grace knew, she just _knew_ something was wrong.

She used her left claw to move his injured hand. But without the support she dropped him. He gave a short cry of pain but it was followed with a small laugh.

"Oh-" She was going to say _shit_ but decided to think it _heard_ her _think_ this. It was weird. She knelt beside him. "I… You still okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live."

"I didn't mean to- Your hand!"

She had cupped the injured hand – he was a fool to think she couldn't smell the blood – with both of her own. Her face went right up to it, she breathed in deeply, her 'brow' furrowing in clear distaste. "What happened?"

"Dark Deathclaw, got me good." he replied, not moving his hand an inch.

"No no no this is bad!"

"It could've been worse."

Brooks entered his vision, pulling out a fresh pair of bandages from her robes. She didn't even ask Grace to move before wrapping up the neat red spot where his finger once met the hand. And when Brooks was halfway through her work, Ryder looked to Grace and said, "I guess the tables turned, right Grace?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was _you_ on that table in Primm, and _me_ that was worried sick."

She closed her eyes to picture the memory, it brought a grin to her face and she squeezed his hand a little more. "You'll be right."

"Hey! I'm supposed to say that!"

The Four had come up behind them in a hurry. Dalon was accompanying them and stared at Ryder a bit longer than he should have. Brooks clapped his arm when she was done with her doctoring. Ryder felt he should've been more disgusted by the loss, but he wasn't. It felt wired, sure, but that was all, it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Look at what you've done!"

It was Zak to talk, the great Deathclaw had kept its distance from the humans on purpose, and for the first time it talked to them, its voice was as furious as the Dark Ones faces.

"Now now, Zak, now is not the time for bickering." Aana replied quickly, stepping forward into his vision.

Zak waved her away and stared right into the humans souls. "We've lost eight of us already!"

Yadon put in, "But we've killed just as many." But Zak wouldn't have it.

"If it wasn't for you humans, they'd still be alive!"

There was a crack of thunder. After it passed Ryder got to his feet and pointed to the intimidating beast. "They'd still kill you, even if-"

"No, they wouldn't. We had a system! We lived! And now you come along and have gotten us killed!" Zak clenched his claws and glanced at the other Three leaders. "And you all let them."

Al said, "They died so our young may live-"

"They'll take them anyway! Now that we've rebelled against them. It's all a waste, Home will be our _grave_."

Ryder picked up the Anti-Material rifle (the 'Claws called it Death Bringer) and slung its old bandolier over his shoulder. "We're here to stop them. And we will."

"One of you have already abandoned us." Zak spat. "How do we know _you_ won't do the same?"

That's when Ryder noticed. Where was Jace? He turned to Brooks. "What happened?"

"He… He just… ran."

The gathered crowd gasped, some of them looked to one another for confirmation. Zak seemed to endure this with a hidden smug, he raised his hands. "I'll ask you again, how do we know you won't abandon us like _he_ did?"

"You have my word." Ryder replied.

Yadon again put in something that went both noticed and unnoticed. "Your word may not be enough."

"'Sides," Brooks said. "we're stuck in here as much as ya'll are."

Murmurs of agreement. The gunfire outside had been pounding away endlessly before, but now it had seem to dim down, as if the Purifiers were dead. But now all was quiet apart from the storm.

"It seems the Dark Ones have stopped fighting the humans." Al spoke up, gesturing to the door.

"-which these human lured here-" Zak mumbled.

"We shall recuperate and tend to our wounds-"

There was another thunderous crash, but this one wasn't due to the storms from above. The sturdy metal entrance was no longer still. A large indent crushed itself inwards, as if something had run itself into it at full force. After a second, something rammed itself back into the doors again. They could hear the hinges complain.

"Stop them!" yelled Al, rushing with Yadon and a half dozen other 'Claws to put themselves up against the door. "Don't let them in!"

"This is it, grab the young ones." Zak said, not moving.

Aana wasn't nearly as big as Zak, but the fire in her heart wouldn't die out anytime soon. She bared her fangs and stood between Zak and the 'restricted area'. "Try it, I _dare_ you. You're not handing them over while I stand."

"Then you'll fall, for the good of the Pack." he replied, baring his fangs with equal ferocity. He was backed by a few others, who at first glance looked unsure, but seemed to get ready to take the younger's if they had to. Aana had her followers too, but not as many.

Again, something rammed itself at the doors, the force rumbled their ears, and the 'Claws holding the door stumbled slightly but held true.

"Use that big-ass gun and set up for the door, Ryder!" Brook suggested, though panic was clear in her tone.

"Ryder, shoot Zak." Aana grumbled. "He'll take my kids and not lose a wink of sleep!"

"Now's not the time!" Al cried, meeting the ground after another ram at the door. "They get in, we're all dead!"

Zak. "Not if we let them have what they want! I won't let us die because of some outsiders interference!"

Then he launched himself on Aana. But instead of trying to slice her up he jumped _over_ her and ran into the back, where the children slept (if they could, what with all this racket). Aana chased after him, hot on his heels. None of their followers did anything, they seemed to have lost what little nerve they had a second ago. Without warning, Grace followed after, as did Dalon.

Another crash, a sliver of rain slipped inside, and a small shot of a black claw quickly appeared then disappeared through the crack.

Ryder said to Brooks nodding his head to where the others had gone. "Can you help them out? I don't think even three of them are enough to handle Zak."

"Yeah… yeah okay. Don't let them back here, alright?" She jabbed finger back at the entrance.

He nodded. "Don't let him hurt-"

"I won't."

The waves of bewildered followers parted when Brooks ran towards them and disappeared into the darkness. Ryder flipped the bipod of Death Bringer down and onto the podium and lined his sights with the door. It was the best spot at the moment, maybe the only one.

He loaded up.

 **4**

A library? Maybe an archive or a sort? She never imagined a library in the building plans of a church, but she didn't give it much mind as she ran past the shelves stacked with books. There was so many, she hadn't seen this many since before the war. Maybe after all this is settled she could read a few. But right now she could here small cries of both pain and fear up ahead in the darkness.

Thankfully her mutated eyes made up for the poor lighting. As she ran forward, behind her she could already hear the fifty-cal sounding off. Maybe if that asshole Jace hadn't ran off, it might not have been so chaotic right now. Whatever. She'd 'deal' with him if she ever saw him again.

She reached the end of the library and stepped foot into the nest. Gathered around a small cluster of both rags and dirt where Grace and Dalon on Aana's flanks. In front of them was Zak, forcefully prying away a small 'Claw from what Brooks deduced to be a mother. Behind _her_ were a few more baby Deathclaws, hugging there protectors back and peeping over its shoulders.

Near the nest was a body of another identical mother. It was moving – thank D'law – but a lot of blood was pooling around her.

Aana was yelling for Zak to back off. Zak was yelling to the mother – telling her to let go. Brooks was in the middle of thinking of an idea on what to do when a new voice entered her ears (or holes). Dark, intellectual, terrible, all at once.

"It will all be over. The nightmare – gone. _Just…_ _let me out._ "

Brooks – at first – couldn't spot the source of this new voice. But there, behind her, at a fair distance away, were two small prison cells built into the wall. Again, was this originally part of the original building plans? Or had it been modified by these creatures? She was more inclined to believe the former, but hoped she was wrong.

Two giant red eyes peered from the cells flimsy shadows. A long set of claws grasped and bent the bars like rubber. "Humaaaaaan, we can… we _will_ be friends. Let me… _out_."

Brooks opened her mouth, but decided to instead head over to the nest. Egg shells – not many – littered the surrounding floor. Zak had pulled the little beast out of the mothers grip and it was whining loudly. Aana was on the edge of attacking and would have if Grace hadn't been whispering (or thinking) to her to calm down and wait.

"Get out of my way, mother." Zak said, clutching the youth too hard.

Aana was going to launch herself at him, but he had angled himself so that of she did, the younglings would be in the way if she struck.

"What are you doing?" Grace said. "We're so close to ending it!"

"It was all fine before _you_ showed up." Zak shot back. "You… and your little human friends, are costing us our lives!"

"You're not taking my children!" Aana said.

"They'll take _all_ of us if I don't!"

"Yesssss," the prisoner hissed. "I can… call them off. Can call _all_ of them… away."

Brooks took a step forward. "Think about what you are doing, Zak!"

"I'm doing what's right. Don't try it, Brooks the Old, there is no point in delaying the inevitable."

Long whispering. " _Yessss_."

"Zak," Brooks said, waving a hand to the youngling he was holding. "Is that yours? Is any of these yours?"

He didn't look at her.

"Do you think that _if_ they were yours, you'd still be standing there, taking them by force?"

No answer.

"Did you, or _any_ of you, think about what happens to them if things like _that_." She pointed behind her to the cell. "Take them away?"

Zak. "They… let us-"

"What _do_ you do to them?" She had turned in the direction she was pointing. The shadow tilted its head to the side.

"We… take _care_ of them."

"And how many do you demand?"

"… _Enough_ for our… _needs_."

"Yeah, you harvest them. You harvest the little ones like crops on a field. You don't even have to plant them, because ya'll do the work for them. They take them, then wait… take… wait. And they've plagued you all after all this time. How long have they been taking your young?"

It was Aana who responded. "Ever since we arrived."

Grace stepped forward. "And now that the… 'farming' is over for them, Al said himself that there needs are too much, that's why we killed Nukpana – they have no use for us!"

"We can… _make_ _do._ " The _thing_ in the cage drawled.

Brooks took another step towards Zak. "There only children, Zak. Their whole lives are ahead of them."

Zak glanced up. She had never seen a Deathclaw looking lost, then again, she never met a talking Deathclaw before Grace. "I don't want us to die here." he whispered.

Neutrally, she said. "You won't, and neither will the little'ns. Don't hand the children over, you can't make this decision for them."

Zak held the babe in front of his face, it looked at him with glassy eyes. "You… don't know anything about them."

"I know that they are no different from a human child. I've seen dozens of kids die in front of me due to my races mistakes. Please, please don't let _your_ race do the same."

Thunder claps, dying 'Claws, rifle shots. This filled the silence while they waited for Zak to make his choice. For a second Brooks was certain he'd strike out like the mule he was. But after a third or fourth lightning strike that struck their eyes through a nearby window, he put the little one down and let his arms go limp. The child rushed back to the safety of the nest, yelping "Maw-maw!" all the while in a tiny little voice.

Zak crouched next to the injured mother. "Forgive me…"

It growled and he backed up. Aana relaxed her claws but still scowled Zak with her coal-pitted eyes. Grace sighed and gave Brooks a nod. Dalon (who she had completely forgotten about) simply clicked his nails together and grabbed Graces arm in a way that a man would to a _very_ close friend.

There they simply stood for a few moments. That's when Brooks said, "I don't hear any shots, let's get back to the hall."

She gasped when they did.

 **5**

He was as bloody as a cherry before they came to Home, but now? Now a whole landslide of it covered him from helmet to toe. Ryder wasn't alone in this state, for almost every other 'Claw looked similar, as did the floor.

Ryder looked down at himself. Giant red splotches on his armour and cloak and hands. He couldn't be sure who it belonged to anymore. Those ghouls at Novac? A bit of Elijah? Jessup's? All of it hidden behind a veil of Dark Ones' blood. A long trail of bodies started at the door and ended at the podium where he held his ground. Huge chunks of flesh sat in random spots on the floors, walls and seats from his new weapons aftermath. It wasn't perfect, many normal 'Claws… too many… had lost their lives against the seemingly endless wave of demons. But alas, with every dead Dark, the morale of his new allies rose up as they fought for their Home and future.

When the dawn came, its shining light slipping through the breathlessly beautiful tinted windows, they knew they had won. The storm passed little by little, then was gone when the last Dark One fell by Yadon's claws. There was celebration, a few cries of victory that Ryder joined in on for a few moments but thought better of it after hunkering down next to a dead 'Claw. This one was a nice shade of white. He remembered this one: the one who poked his ribs when he first arrived. He felt strangely sad for a moment for the only 'shy' Deathclaw he had ever been acquainted with.

Al hunkered with him as well. No words exchanged, he simply put a hand on the corpses shoulder and murmured a prayer – at least that's what he thought he did.

"You did the best you could. More would've died if you hadn't. She thanks you."

Ryder looked at the Alpha with a look of not quite confusion. "How do you know?"

"Everyone. Even humans, live on in D'law's eye." He taps a claw in the centre of Ryder's chest. "In here."

Ryder had a strange incentive to believe him. These Deathclaws weren't like humans, not liars, not murderers, not… anything. Just people – almost.

"Mourn them if you will." Al said. "But know that they would not want you to."

"No?"

"No. And I'll tell you the same. We saved our young, our future, we must look to that if we are to move on from today."

"It's not over. I lured the Purifiers here. They'll come and try to wipe you all out. That is, if the Dark Ones didn't wipe _them_ out."

"We have you. I don't worry about our chances. But for now we must recover and rest. We strike these 'Purifiers' tomorrow, or the day after."

"I hope they don't attack when your resting."

"That's what we live on, Ryder. Hope. And before you came, I was hoping for salvation." Again, he taps Ryder in the same spot as before. "And you – and your friends – answered."

Grace, Dalon and Brooks came from the back. Zak lingered behind, looking like he didn't fit in anymore. Aana must've stayed behind.

"Brooks convinced him to stay down." Al said, matching his gaze. "Zak will see this as a sign of a losing cause."

Ryder didn't reply – didn't need to. Because what little calm Brooks put into the beast was washed away just like that. He rushed over to a dead 'Claw that matched his colour – kicking Dark One corpses away angrily as he passed them.

Then, it stared at Ryder. Got up, and loomed over to him.

" _YOU!_ " Zak screamed, his claws were out front, ready to kill. " _YOU DID THIS! YOU!"_

Ryder was about to step back. But Grace put herself between him and Zak, a position of defying defence.

Al said from the side. "Enough, Zak. It's done."

Zak seemed not to notice Grace or Al. " _IT IS NOT! THEY'LL COME BACK AND WIPE US OUT!"_

"Listen to me." Grace said. "Listen well. You did absolutely _nothing_ to help fight the darkness. When we fought and died out there, _you_ were the first inside. When Al and Yadon and everyone else – with _this_ human – helped stop them entering our Home. _YOU_ ran away to the nest. _YOU_ are a damn coward. And when I say this, I speak for everyone here. We've had enough of you, you worthless excuse for life, you didn't even need to worry about anything, for your childless, and no one would have you." Her voice rose to nearly a shout. "You've had your say. Now shut up."

Ryder straightened up. Grace: one moment a friendly smile, the next a stubborn force to be reckoned with. He joined the thunder of foot-stomping and cheers of applause that greeted this. Zak stopped in his tracks and tried to take the bellowing for as long as he could, his head soon lowered to his chest like a bull about to charge. He turned and shoved his way to the doors, not even closing them behind him.

No one followed.

"Grace?"

She turned.

"No one's ever-"

She hugged him.

 **6**

He was going to say _no one's ever stood up for me before_ but held it back. This was true. Not even his parents backed him up whenever he did, well, _anything_ back in the day. He pushed the memories aside and simply enjoyed the moment. Sure, she was a deadly wasteland 'scourge' that made quite a lot of people shit their pants just at the names mention, but… he couldn't care less right now.

 **7**

One day later, they had cleaned Home spotless. Brooks asked if they would burn the bodies but got no reply. The Deathclaws took their Pack's corpses into the back – Brooks told Ryder they might've had some sort of morgue, Ryder wasn't surprised if there was. But the Dark Ones? They respected their privacy and didn't pry further.

There was very few 'Claws that mourned the dead. Even then, it was only a quick prayer or a few words of peace. There was celebration, which drowned out what little sadness lingered.

With a few stimpack's and a good few words of wisdom by Brooks ('walk it off, sissy!' or even a borrowed 'You'll be right.') there was little to no trace of wounds from the battle. The children (without the mother's consent, probably) had left the nest and ran around like they didn't have heads. They might have somehow sensed the danger was lifted and they wanted to enjoy the outside.

One of them – the potato planter – stood a foot away from Ryder, and jumped. Over and over, it just jumped. High enough to give him a kiss if it wanted. Ryder simply tracked the bouncing 'Claw with his eye, his head rising and falling, his fight against laughing was failing.

"I think he wants to play skip rope." It was Brooks who said this, coming back from the archives near the nest. Ryder was near the entrance, light warming his back.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Oh, and old world thing. We can play it, maybe start a little chant as well."

"Skirope!" said the Deathclaw (which Ryder wanted to name Tater), still jumping.

"Well, show us this skip rope, Brooks."

" _Rooks!_ "

"There was one that was near the nest. It might've been some sort of playground years back. I'll go get it."

She came back into the light outside holding a sort of stock-rope. Waiting for her was Ryder and Tater (still jumping, Ryder tried holding it down, but failed). She gave one end to Ryder while she took the other. They started off turning it in large lazy loops. Brooks had a delighted grin of nostalgia on her face when she looked to Tater.

"In you go, bud!"

"Bud! Go!" it said, and jumped into the ropes path. It caught on instantly, jumping over the rope as it clicked on the ground. "Skirope!"

"He's got it, do we speed it up?" Ryder asked. She said he was right and they did just that. Only a notch faster, but Tater looked like he didn't even notice. Coming from the church was another small 'Claw. This one pale and white with a look that was the direct opposite of fear. It ran over – tripped halfway – towards them and pointed at Tater.

"Skirope!" Tater said.

"Skirope!" it replied. It ran, and joined, Tater moved back and gave it room to jump. After a moment of awe, the newcomer went from clumsy to harmony as it jumped in time with Tater.

A rush of laughter escaped the two who held the rope. It was joined in by the two skippers a second later, and an aura of joy seeped out into the dead world around them. They weren't surprised when a third, then a fourth child escaped Home and joined the jumping dance. They chanted, "Ski-rope, ski-rope! Skippity rope!" on their own, and soon the human and ghoul joined them.

"What… are doing?"

A mother had followed the last little one and gasped when it saw the Skirope game. The mothers didn't really attend or like Brooks' English teachings, so she sounded a bit on the low side.

"Just a bit of fun is all." Brooks said, keeping her wrist in time with Ryder's.

"Dangerous." she said.

"Maw-maw!" All four of the kids chanted. Still keeping the spin spinning.

"Mm, no."

Again. "Maw-maw!" Even Ryder and Brooks joined in.

"Mm," she eyed the humans, then the 'Claws. "o-kay."

Six voices cried, "Yay!"

They attracted quite a crowd. A few albino's and blue's and all the in betweens clapped along in time with the improvised song of the skip rope. Grace was there, Yadon and Dalon was well. Ryder suggested more join in but they were very nervous when offered. _Don't want to fuck up the spin_ , they were most likely thinking.

Brooks passed her end to a large albino 'Claw and told him to back up. Ryder did the same with another. They backed up and the loops got larger and wider. But before the next time the rope flew up Brooks did it. She jumped in between Tater and the second newcomer, dead centre. She had to go as fast as a bullet to both keep in time and skip the rope. "Faster boys, _faster!_ "

The two giants did. The rope was a blur almost. Ryder caught Taters up-and-down eyes and suddenly _needed_ to join in.

"You can't, sugar!" Grace said, beaming at his back

Oh but he did, he whipped his cloak off, dropped his guns, and somehow avoided the rope and put himself on the very end. He was now in a world that appeared to be going up and down. All thoughts about fighting the Purifiers and finding Benny was put aside. All he wanted right now was to focus and not fuck up the spin. In this state, with his racing heart and heavy breaths, he had discovered some sort of magic long extinguished. He would do this forever, if he could. Not a worry cursed him at this moment.

Magic it was for all there. Those moments of unique luster would stay in their hearts forever. Not four but six jumping in tandem, while the happy beasts spun the rope as fast as they could.

Magic held itself. As did the chanting and laughter from the crowd. The rope spun so rapidly that not even the keenest Deathclaw eyes could track it, it was now nothing more than a whirr in the air. Like pistons their legs rose and fell. But then, the rope caught on a foot (it didn't matter who, but, it was Ryder's) and they all went sprawling into the dust, laughing and gasping. Ryder clutched his chest and laid back with his eye closed.

But the energetic little ones and the ghoul wanted nothing more than to go again. He felt a presence looming over him and looked up to see Grace. "I'm dying."

She hoisted him up, chuckling. "That was… quite a scene. You must be hot."

"Oh boy, I bet _you're_ the reason why!" Brooks called over.

It was a good thing the suns heat hid the flush in his cheeks. For Brooks spoke true. Grace gave him a smile of confusion. "What does she mean, sugar?"

"Well…"

"You all must be hungry!" Al said through a window from Home. "I have set a huge meal inside, let us feast!"

"Woo!" Brooks cheered, and then, the little ones did the same.

 **8**

The view was a winner, in Graces opinion. Clawbabs, greens (a request from Ryder), and the smell melted her mind. Perhaps the curtain of the Dark ones was also harming the quality of food. She took a seat at the end, with Ryder on her left and Brook opposite her. Beyond them was the Four and then the children, who had grown onto Ryder and Brooks. Beyond them were the mothers, then a dozen others from the Skirope crowd. The rest might've been outside, starting the game again.

Al, at the head of the table, said. "Set us on a word, Yadon."

He seemed pleased, he nodded and bowed his head. As did everyone else. "Lower your heads children." Grace whispered, and they did. One of them tried to eat something but its mother stopped it in time. The other little ones shut their eyes so tightly they looked like they were holding back tears. Ghouls and human mimicked them.

"Thank you D'law, for both food and company. May there days upon the earth be pleasant, and may they find peace, as they have delivered to us."

"Thanks!" cried the children.

"From the bottom of our souls, we thank you, D'law." he said.

"Thank you D'law." said everyone. Ryder held back laughing at the cute little yelps from the rowdy kids. They dug in greedily once they opened there eyes.

"Thanks, Door!" said one.

"Tanks." said another.

"Taters!" cried Tater.

"Wait! Before we do, I have something to say."

Grace and everyone else turned to the podium, where Dalon stood shyly. He lowered himself and passed Al and the mothers and the kids slowly. There were no seats, so she knew not what he was doing.

He came up behind Grace, twirled his claws around, then bent one knee. She lost her breath when he did this, but before she could do anything, he said this:

"Ever since we were little, I dreamt of a time when we would never be apart. When the Demon shot out my eyes, I worried I would never see you again. Not because of sight, but because if you died, my life would be empty."

He put his hands out and found hers.

"But you came back. You lived, and although I cannot look upon you ever again. I want to be _with_ you for the rest of my days. If you would have me, and I you, it would be worth to me more than my return of sight. So, I ask you… for your hand."

Not a breath, no gust of air no humour from outside. Even the seats didn't creak, as if waiting for her to answer. But in the distance, a crow called out, reinforcing the emptiness. Sure, she liked Dalon, but, she never knew he was downright _obsessed_ with her to take her hand in front of a lot of people. This offer… this _proposition_ , hit her hard. For the second time in her little life (the first being the day Ryder died) she didn't know what to do. To take a mate at such time was…

On the corner of her vision was her friend Ryder. She made sure it didn't look like she glanced at him when she did. He looked reserved, and uncomfortable, he adjusted himself in his seat and slowly met her. They stared for only a split-moment before she looked back at Dalon – still kneeling there before her.

Ryder... She wouldn't deny she had certainly grown more… _used_ to him, over the past few days. No, _used_ wasn't the right word, but she had begun to develop something more than just friendship with him. The way his hands felt in hers… he just felt… different, to be around. The Pack couldn't blame her for thinking _very_ highly of him, right? Who wouldn't? He had raised her when her family was killed. He didn't have to, but he did anyway, didn't he? She wanted him to help with the Dark Ones and he didn't even think twice before coming with her! He even lost a finger and he didn't even so much as complain. In fact, he said it 'could have been worse' hadn't he? He didn't _have_ to help her, but he _did_.

Did he do that simply to repay her for coming to the Madre? Or maybe…

No. He didn't do it for _her_.

But maybe he did. She couldn't really read his thoughts, she sure as hell would like to right now in this moment of confusion. She decided to look at him again. Did he have feelings for her? Did he – a human – have thoughts for her – a mutated animal – as some had said she was? It didn't look like he cared at all, he treated her like he treated Brooks or Jace – just a friend, or was he just holding it back for her sake?

She shouldn't think of him like that, she shouldn't assume anything. She should just ask! And if there hadn't been so many people present right now, she might have done so!

But Dalon… he was _technically_ the last of her family. Not born from her old pack, but close enough. He was there… every day…

But so was Ryder…

But…

She clenched her fists. Why now? Why all of a sudden did she feel like that skip rope? One end going one way, but the other countering it. All eyes were on her – just like when she first came to Home. And she felt worse now than back then. She didn't dare give Ryder _or_ Dalon a look, lest either of them got any ideas.

No. No this shouldn't be happening. To make a decision now? She refused to do it. But something dug itself out of her mind and told her that she _must_. It wasn't like she could keep her silence. In front of the alpha's, in front of everyone? Silence, stubbornness, wasn't an option.

"I…"

She closed her senses and blocked out the world. There she sat for what she thought was the longest time. She wanted time to think, time to herself, time without so many eyes on her back. In front of the Four leaders no less? Why would Dalon do this to her?

' _Cause he's serious_.

Was _she_ serious about it?

She didn't know. But what she _did_ know was that she had to say _something…_

"I…"

Not two minutes ago she was laughing at the silly game Ryder was playing. It seemed so far away now.

"I…"

She wanted to say _I need time_ but no, her mouth wouldn't let her. For the two halves of her mind had fought a war and ended. She let the words escape her mouth, not _completely_ aware that she had.

Al, waving to her, said, "What say you, Grace?"

She gave her answer. She hated and welcomed it's reaction.


	17. Chapter 17: Purification III

**Purification III**

 **1**

At first, he felt shocked. Deathclaw weddings? Not a soul would believe this if they were not here to see it. If this all turned out to be a dream, and that he really was dead in the Goodsprings cemetery, he would not be surprised, nor would he be disappointed. Because right now he would rather be anywhere else, because the way he felt was alien, not one to belong, an outcast.

His lower lip parted very slightly. It wouldn't be called trembling, for his face was still, and blank, yet it certainly was much more than that. He had witnessed his fair share of proposals ('witnessed' was the key), from his own brothers and sisters. The bending of the man's knee, and even sometimes it was the other way around. He would always be off to the side, joining in on the applause and looking quite bored and uninterested.

"That should be you, boy." It was mother, pointing to the newlyweds. "How old are you?"

"I'm tryin', ma'."

"If you're telling the truth, then I'm ashamed of you."

She certainly was not one to put it lightly. But he had changed since then, oh yes, and this moment was proof enough, for this time he didn't feel bored or uninterested, he felt downright _ashamed_ of _himself_.

 _Mhmm, you're trying all right._

He brought his hands up to his face, just in front of him. He suppressed looking away from Grace, resisted biting his lip, refused to show any emotion, and joined the clapping. It was a good show, he thought no one gave him a second glance.

Over the joy, Al yelled, "By my right as alpha, I grant your partnership. If anyone objects to this, speak now!"

No one did. The chance passed, and this only strengthened the excitement.

Dalon, rising to Grace's level, brought her face close to his. It didn't look quite like a shower of kisses, but it might have well been. He leant right into where her shoulder met her neck, he might have been sniffing, licking or some other thing, it didn't matter to Ryder, for when Grace returned this gesture, he could not bear to keep looking.

He turned his head to the side and saw Brooks clapping along. He made the smallest gesture. He put a thumb to his chest, then pointed it to the door: _I'm heading out_. She nodded. He got up and walked past the couple, it was as if no one even saw him slip out, he was a ghost in comparison to the joys of partnership.

But he was not unseen. Just before he slipped out, Grace looked at him longingly, if but for a moment of secrecy.

The skip rope game was still going strong. Even grownups found as much joy as the kids did. One of them asked him if he came back to join in, but Ryder shook his head and passed them, taking out a few pills from his belt. He went around to the side of the church and let himself slide down its wall until his ass stopped him. The addict swallowed his pills and let himself relax a little.

He looked west. There the great giant buildings of Vegas still stood, inside them the riches of the greedy and powerful. Where Benny had gone. He did not know this for sure, but where else would a suited guy like Benny be? The snake reeked city-boy, those neat shoes and matching tie were fresh in his memory. He should have asked Jessup where he had gone. But no, Ryder had killed him, and it was done. Would his killer be in that giant roulette-shaped building? Or that great fiery-looking one next to it? The one that had the word Gomorrah in pure flame? Going door to door would be time consuming, maybe he should leave now? His business in Home was done.

 _Not yet,_

The thought came from his left. Seemed like he wasn't alone in his wallowing. For coming the same way he did was the big guy Zak. The Deathclaw slitted his eyes and stared at Ryder. Ryder almost shut his eyes and returned the look. Eventually he waved at the dirt next to him and continued chewing away at the drugs in his mouth. Zak sunk himself next to him and sighed… which was more like a great big _heave_ from his great big mouth.

Ryder wordlessly offered him a tat and Zak silently obliged. There they stared at the city for a while. Ryder broke the silence that was not awkward.

"What do you mean then?" He was referring to the sent thought.

Zak spoke with the slightest edge of anger. "How many died yesterday? Dark Ones, that is."

"I'd say… at least thirty." he said, then added with a thought. "They were endless."

"They _are_ endless. They _will_ come again, you know. Kill us all. Could be tomorrow, or in a week, a month? Or you might be right in saying they are done. But what if you're wrong?"

"I'm more than happy then to come back and help."

"And if you don't come? If your busy, or too far away? You won't linger out here forever, I can tell your… uncomfortable, with how things went back there."

Ryder ignored that last part. "You want a long term solution?"

"Something other than your word, yes."

"Then I'll find it."

Zak nodded in a not satisfied way, as if saying _yeah, sure_. Ryder scratched an irritation on his chin and flexed his right hand open, then clenched it into a fist. "Will there be a… ceremony?"

Zak crossed his arms and said in a you-already-knew-this voice. "Of course. Another feast… as if we didn't have enough of them… a quick few words of devotion and such, then, they're bound forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

"Hell of a long time. They can't, I don't know, _delay_ it? Or even _stop_ it?"

Zak slitted his eyes again. "Hmm, the female or male can back out of it. But it would be a horrible thing to do. To promise something in front of the alpha and _then_ take it back? Whoever did _that_ would look quite stupid and un-wantable, wouldn't it? Any sense of honour, loyalty? Poof! Gone!"

"Huh."

"I believe I have heard of a human slang for your… predicament. Maybe in a book somewhere… In any case, it's this: You chickened out. Of course, if you objected then and there, Dalon would've slit your throat."

"A lot of low-willed junkies chicken out."

"I don't mean to offend."

"Right." Ryder said, and looked back at Vegas. Its endless windows reflecting off the bright flame of the dawning light.

"If you like her," Zak suddenly said. "you should be glad to see her like this."

"I am, it's just… I thought things might've been a bit different."

"Dalon is the closest thing she's got to a friend. Her whole family died, her _and_ Dalon's. You're a human…"

"And that makes me more of a stranger."

"Yes. Dalon is more of a suitor than you, by far."

Dalon was right. No matter how much Ryder wanted to dismiss it he knew he could not deny that fact. On the day Ryder wiped out the pack and took Grace away, he promised himself to take care of her, because then she was only a child. And now? By Deathclaw terms she had reached maturity quite quickly. Maybe now – that she had found a new Pack and a suitor – his promise was fulfilled. He did it. He raised one of the most vicious beasts to walk the land, and given her a new life no less after slaying her old one.

 _I've… done_ _it._

That was that. All that was left to do was to go and find Benny – murder him – and then what? It was over. This part of the tale was done. Grace had played her part, and now she would use the rest she had earned and live out here away from all the harm any human could do. The more Ryder gave this thought, the more he loathed the time he would say goodbye to Grace. But no. No he must not think of taking her along, she had a home now. No need to interfere anymore.

Something, a bulge in the featureless desert between Home and the outer Vegas ruins, was coming towards him to make him stop pondering. It was closing in fast, growing in size. A small clopping of boots soon came into hearing. he got a better picture of the thing that drew nearer and faster by the second. It looked like an old wagon of some sort, but where a Brahmin was meant to pull was an armoured human in its place. It was pulling along a ton of crates of various sizes and colours, it seemed like…

"It can't be…"

But Zak's comment lingered no longer as the human-powered wagon came to a stop in front of them. The human huffed and wiped his brow heavily – his stench could be smelled from all the way to Goodsprings.

"Poo-wee! That was… phew. You got any… ahhh… water?"

Ryder clipped off his flask from his belt and tossed it. The human caught it and bathed his whole head in it. A great "Ahhh!" followed this through.

Ryder knocked Zak's arm with his elbow. "Told ya he'd be back. What did you get, chubs?"

Chubs glared at him before motioning both his hands to the cart full of stuff. "I got allllll the anti-Dark Deathclaw things we'd ever need! Oh, and don't call me that."

Ryder got up and went to the cart. He opened one box and crossed his brows. He pulled out one small wrapped object and held it out. "This?"

"Yep!"

"What's that smell?" Zak asked, still sitting nearby.

"Roasted Bull!" Jace replied.

"You brought food?" Ryder said quizzically. "How is this meant to help?"

"You gotta put food on the table. Don't worry! I brought a few guns, uh, there in there somewhere."

"Guess we're lucky we already took care of them." Ryder murmured, but Jace beamed at this.

"Well! All the more better! Good work, Ryder!" Jace looked to Zak. "And you as well, uh, 'Sack', was it?"

Zak growled.

Ryder pulled away the wrappings to discover a sandwich identical to the one where they met up before coming to Home. He ate it, then sat down next to Zak again. "I don't think it matters, Jace, Brooks'll kill you dead if she sees you."

"Nah, I aint worried."

Ryder looked to the side. "Oh hi Brooks!"

"What!" Jace yelled, turned, saw nothing, and looked back at Ryder, horror slowly leaving his features. "You cheeky little…"

This even got a laugh out of Zak. It was little more than a grumble of movement, but it was what it was. Jace crossed his legs and sat in front of them after taking his own little snack as well.

"So! I take it we won, yes? How'd it go?"

Ryder eyed Zak before responding carefully. "We… lost a lot."

"Oh, well, could've been worse, right? Right Sack?"

Ryder put a finger to his own neck and drew it across, _don't go any further_ it said. Jace seemed to get the message and tapped his nose twice, following with an exaggerated wink and saying, "At least we can have another huge dinner, something edible this time."

Zak huffed. "Your timing couldn't be more convenient, Jace. There's a wedding tonight."

"Oh! Who're the lucky two?"

"Dalon and-"

"Oh that lucky devil! Real quite he is. He was always holding back and keeping silent whenever I saw him around. He finally came out, did he? Who's the girl?"

Zak didn't hold back his annoyance. "Grace."

"Oh…" All light in his voice was gone. "Uhh…" He turned to Zak, then Ryder. "Hmm, Ryder, I-"

"It's nothing. I'm glad you came back. I'll probably set off soon, before nightfall. Been too long out here, anyway."

"Not attending?" Zak said with a hint of slyness.

"Ryder…" Jace said. "Are you perhaps-"

"Hi Brooks."

"Ha! That's not going to work again, Ryder!"

"I'm serious."

"That's what they… all… say? Hi Brooks!"

The ghoul was tapping her foot impatiently behind him. She raised her hand for a good strike when Al, Dalon and Grace appeared behind her. The last two were holding hands.

"Oh my, I can smell what you've brought us, Jace!" said Al with a wide smile.

"Oh, w-why yes! Thank you, it's the… the least I could do!"

Brooks mumbled something under her breath. Ryder caught the words _lucky bastard_ but heard nothing more.

"With this," Al said. "I think we can… _forgive_ you for running off like that. Maybe D'law told you we would need _extra_ food, hmm?"

"O-Of course! Yes, a vision! I knew I couldn't let him down, ha-ha!"

"It's actually a she." Al corrected.

"Oh, right, yeah!"

"Or maybe it is a male…"

"Ah that's right!"

"Could be both…"

"Could be, yes!"

"Maybe it's none…"

"No… neither, your right!"

"Alright, enough!" Zak hissed, standing. "We should bid our… helper… farewell." He struggled with the second last word and waved to Ryder.

Ryder gave Zak a sour look when all was silent afterward. Grace looked up and at him from her place and gave the smallest of frowns. He wished he could read people better, for he didn't know whether it was in sadness or anger. "Are you… leaving?" she asked.

He was taken back, but still replied with a voice as normal as he could make it. I sounded like bullshit to his own ears. "Yeah, I have to find this 'Benny' guy, and the sooner the better."

Dalon noticed Grace's sadness and said, "Surely a night can be spared?"

Al said, "You do what you need, Ryder. But please, let us bid you farewell after the ceremony. Part on happy terms."

 _Happy terms for some,_ he thought in that dreadful way he sometimes did. Sure, it was the least he could do. He could not leave right now, it just didn't feel right. He would stay for this 'wedding' and put on his best fake smile. He had plenty of practice, that was for sure.

Grace's eyes drooped, and she said. "He doesn't have to st-"

"I will." Ryder cut her off, harsher than intended. "I'm happy that you've found… you've _both_ found… someone to love. I couldn't be more delighted."

That last part hit him. Hit him right where it hurt. He regretted putting in that last part as soon as he finished it. And unknown to him, it hurt Grace even more.

"In that case." Dalon said. "Let us go."

 _I can't._

 **2**

The night was glorious.

No matter how picky or how much you can force yourself to hate something, this night was as close to perfection as it could get. Jace came through with treats Ryder thought long used up by now. The Deathclaws were chatty but not so much as to become annoying. There was no sadness, no gloom, nothing at all was wrong.

Maybe that's what Ryder hated about it. He knew how selfish he was being, so he decided to drink it away. Six bottles later it worked. He convinced even himself that he was having fun, and that he was not the jealous middle man that sat back and watched the show with longing eyes.

Jealous. Huh. Of mutants? Yep. Did he care? Yes… and no. Mostly no, but, it didn't really matter. Nothing did, really.

"World can go fuck itself." he slurred, it actually sounded like _Hurld can bawuck itself._

He was sat on the seat furthest away from the podium, where the party was in full swing. He spied Brooks with three other Deathclaws, maybe singing? Don't know don't care. He saw Dalon with three of the Four, with Zak gone off somewhere, talking away, maybe about sleeping arrangements or whatever. No sign of Grace though. To his side was Jace, the plump-but-not-really raider turncoat. Jace jerked a thumb at the crowd, then to Ryder.

"What did you say?"

"I said nothin'."

"Would you relax?" the raider said, putting an arm on his addict friend's shoulder. "There this saying…"

"…"

"…"

Ryder huffed. "We'll tell me it then."

"Oh! Sorry! Anyway, there's this saying… 'There is plenty of water…' no that's not right. 'There's plenty of -something- in the sea!' That's it! There's something in the sea, and there's a lot of em'!"

Jace pondered for a moment, then lit up. "I got it! 'There's plenty of Deathclaws in the sea.' That was it. Just stop thinking about it. You'll find another woman. Maybe one without so many teeth… unless that's your thing…"

"Screw you."

"No thanks."

"What good is it?" Ryder said gloomily. "I can't even hold a woman that's… not even a woman! I got out-played by a damn Deathclaw!"

"Why – may I ask – is this so important to you?"

"It's pathetic. Even when I think about it. You heard of Red Lucy?" Jace nods while Ryder shrugs.

At that, Jace blew up. "What?! No! You're lying!"

"It's true."

Jace was practically trembling. "Lucy? Seriously? Why are you going on about some random Deathclaw then?"

"She's not just some random Deathclaw. Besides, I regret nothing. Don't think you'd understand."

"To hell I would! Sheesh what a letdown…" Jace lifted his head ever so slightly. "Is she available then?"

Ryder waved him off. "Go for it. I think I'm gonna go wash all this out. See you."

Ryder got up and went outside. Leaving the sounds of joy and laughter to listen to the music of retching. Once he was done, he leant up one hand on the church and took in some air. He would definitely wait until tomorrow before setting off now. Some otherworldly force made him turn and stare down towards the southeast. Dusk had begun to turn that side darker, but still the lake dominated the view. He stared just long enough to see a hunched figure on the shore. He knew exactly who it was before he even set one foot in that direction.

Along the way he treated himself to two Mentats, chowing them down as if they were nothing more than late night snacks. He crossed the battlefield with care, stepping over bodies and limbs alike. Parts of powered armour here and there, damaged beyond belief, some of them not even whole. He would pry away the helmets later to see if Seth was among them, for he could not be bothered.

He made a familiar trip down to the shore – bypassing a cactus with a few blotches of dried blood staining its spikes – and ended up at the same spot he, Tater and Al sat in the moonlight. Now in the dying rays of the sun was Grace, cross-legged with her back to him.

Still chewing, he put himself down next to her and exhaled in a droll way. Only the lightest of crashing waves filled the nights air until he raised his left hand that held the box of drugs.

"Mentat?" His voice lacked the slurrness of before. He shook the box very gently.

"Maybe not now." she said, not looking at him, but at the lake.

The tats rattled louder in there housing. "Sure?"

"Fine." She held out her palm, he tipped two pills into it and she knocked them back two seconds flat. He finished the ones in his mouth and put the rest away. Something was splashing around near the shore. He squinted.

"Is that… Tater?"

She replied after a pause. "Odd name. But yes, he likes it here. Do you?"

He twisted to her, she was still staring ahead, he was stunned ever so slightly at the remark. "Here? Or do you mean Home?"

"Either."

"Well, it's nice enough, I suppose. But… What about you? Why're you asking?"

Still he did not look at him, and her voice was rather soft. "Dalon… doesn't want to leave. He likes it here."

"And you?"

"I'm sick of it."

He waved his arms over to the lake. "What about the water?" He suddenly chuckled. "Remember the first thing you said to me? In that little train cart? You sounded so cute. _'Git outta heyah! Da warter is lawvly!'_ That's what you sounded like. Don't think I'll ever forget that."

"You think I'm cute?" She was finally regarding him, albeit carefully.

"Out of all the 'Claws I've met. You're the exception."

She rolled her shoulders – _externally_ dismissing his compliment. "Yeah, I like the lake, it's about the only good thing around here. But there's humans down the shore sometimes, holding guns, so…"

"Well hey," He knocks her arm with his elbow. "I'm heading to Vegas. Wanna come with?"

She frowned. "Can't."

"What did you just call me?"

"No! I said _can't_!"

"Wow, where did you learn that word?"

"You doofus!" she said, hitting him with _her_ elbow.

"Oof! Heh, at least that got you smiling again."

She shook her head with a smirk and turned back to the lake. Tater rose up out of the surface, tried to do a summersault, but landed into the water before the halfway point. The splash was bigger than Tater was.

Grace looked all the way up, Ryder soon followed. The sky was beginning to lose its tan. Stars crept into view, thousands of them. She studied the patters, her bonfire-eyes glistening, giving Ryder the chills.

"What's the world like, Ryder?"

She was still looking up when Ryder looked at her. He picked up a nearby stone, quite flat, and twirled it in his hands. "Outside of this dustbowl? It's not as… quiet, as the Mojave. A whole bunch of murderers and all that, mostly."

"Is there anything… green?"

"Hmm, apart from radiation? Not that I can remember. I'd be glad to see some, but…"

"It's all dead."

"Yeah."

Ryder pulled up his knees and rested his arms on them. He tossed the stone into the lake and it skipped once before sinking. A sudden gush of air came and went, blowing him to the left, towards her. He adjusted himself.

She lightly tapped him with her elbow. "Hey, sugar?"

"Yes?"

"Where were you born?"

There was a twitch on his mouth just after she asked that. "Why?"

"I'm curious… You don't have to-"

"No, I'll answer. But you won't be much satisfied, it's not that exciting."

"I'd like to know, anyway."

"Alright," He rubbed his hands together and let a pause pass before saying rather non-dramatically: "On the road."

She twisted her body so she faced him fully, she couldn't look more bewildered if she tried. "Come again? Like, just… out there?"

"Yep. Some old-ass road on some radiated piece of dirt. We all were – my family, that is."

"You haven't mentioned them before. Where are they?"

"Well, ma' is quite a way west of here. Dad is… somewhere up north. I don't pay them much mind, same way goes for me. The rest are dead." He said the last part with a shrug.

She looked like she shivered like moonlight on the water. "Seems we both lost our families."

 _Only yours died by my hand,_ the thought made him go a bit too much pale for his own good. She saw this, and placed one hand on his knee. "Sorry."

Apologising only made him feel worse. She stared at him for a while, her eyes like the stars above them.

"I'm gonna miss you, sugar."

Ryder sunk slightly. But then he picked up again. "Oh! That reminds me!"

He reached to his belt and unhooked his red-eyed helm. He held it out for her and she took it with a look of curiosity. He then held up his little pip-boy and showed her the screen. "I've put the frequency onto it. Hit that little button there and turn that dial until it turns orange. It'll go through to me. Call me anytime."

It was at this moment that Ryder saw Grace for who she really was. This thing – this horror of the wastes – was just like him: a youth. Young, but she lacked the stupidity _he_ had. but the most important – and most saddest – thing of all was that she was easy to fool. She may look like a deadly predator, but at heart she was simply no more an adult than he was. To go through so much – losing family, wandering out here alone until she came to Home. Going so far as the Sierra just to find him. It must have been hard on a girl who was only (in human terms) a month old.

Not even his own parents would believe what he saw on that night by the lake. (But no one would believe he came to a church filled with Deathclaws who worshipped a god) But even Ryder had to look twice at what Grace was doing right then and there.

It was only small, very dismissive. But he saw the tiniest trickle of water escape from her right eye as she looked down at the helmet in her hands.

Ryder brought his voice down to a soft gentleness, topped off with the slightest of happiness. "Come on, Grace."

She looked away, not wanting him to see, but he did. "I don't want you to leave."

The wind pushed him again. Had the sun somehow raised up from the horizon behind them? It seemed not as dark as before.

"It's alright. Hey." He shimmied closer to her, following the winds orders. "Don't do that. You'll make _me_ cry, and I won't forgive you for doing that."

She was laughing, yet it was sad, low, near inaudible. If only he knew _why_ she felt like this. Not just the missing part, but something else…

"I'll visit." Ryder assured warmly. "Maybe bring back a gun you can chew up."

Perhaps he was meant to be serious at this moment. He did feel like crying himself at this sight. But that would only add to the sorrow that seeped into him bit by bit. He reached up and arm and – with a bit of effort – reached around and pulled her in. It was an awkward position, yes, but certainly not uncomfortable for either of them. She even leant into his embrace and it brought warmth to his face.

They were like a couple on movie night. Only the seats were sand, and the view was a lake with a swimming Deathclaw in it.

"Thank you, Ryder. For… For everything."

"I should be thanking you! I've never felt so much more… oh what's the word… "

She brought her face right up to his. Her feather-like breaths adding to the early night chill. Just a moment later, Tater emerged from the shore, shaking itself off like a wet dog would. The little thing scratched its head when it came up to them and studied them.

"Grace! Ryder!" it barked, then pointed at itself. "Tater!"

It did a spin and sat down with its hands in its lap. It leant into Ryder's free hand when the human reached out to it. Ryder smiled to it, it copied him, he then looked to Grace slightly. "You know, If I…"

A horrible chill crawled up his spine. Then ice turned to fire. He gasped and let Grace go, he felt like screaming.

Grace saw his horrified face and asked, "Ryder? What's wrong?"

"I… I feel… something terrible has happened."

This whole while they thought it was dusk. With the sun behind them to warm their backs. Only this was simply an illusion for the horror that had snuck up and killed like an assassin. Grace was the first to look back, the feeling of death creeping up finally met her mind and made her stop breathing for a second. At first, she felt empty, then – as Ryder would have expected – a roaring fire of anger got rid of her gentle mood.

She flexed her nails, growled the most terrifying way yet and slitted her eyes at what she saw behind them.

Home was burning.

 **3**

"Where's he off to?"

"Bah! Don't worry 'bout him, Brooks." Jace waved a dismissive hand and handed his drink to a passing Deathclaw, who shrugged and walked on by sipping it. "A little sour is all."

"About…?"

"He-"

"You know what? I don't wanna know."

"Huh? No, he-"

"SHH!"

"What?"

Brooks nodded her head behind him. Not too far in that direction was Dalon.

"Ahhhhhh riiiight. Well, at least no one is spying on us, right?"

But that was where he was wrong. Peaking around a nearby column where two spherical sensors coated in a dirty white paint. The raider used his sixth sense and spun around to face it. It didn't back off, in fact, a third and final eyeball peeped, then the robot revealed its full chassis.

"How long have you been standing… _hovering_ … there?" the raider asked, leaning to the left slightly to view the robot better.

Its voice modulator had a French undertone. "Oh… days? Ever since you arrived at Maison."

Jace took a step forward, the bot didn't move. "Maison? What's that?"

From below its jet engine that fired an endlessly small blue flame, three arms extended out. It raised two of them and jerked them all around, one of them ended with a small buzz saw, the other was a small red tube.

"What's a Miss Nanny doing here? Of all places?"

Brooks' comment got the robot's attention. "Ah, you know of my units? Surely you should know that my primary function – as a caretaker – is to take… care?"

"Yeah, but… maybe your eyes are busted? These aren't… humans."

"Oh but I melt like butter around the little ones! I'm programmed to care… Race isn't part of my coding."

It glided over to the colourful windows and wiped them with a small cloth that it had not been carrying a moment ago. It did not seem too interested in anything else.

Jace pointed a thumb at the robot, facing Brooks. She shrugged and said, "What's your name?"

In turned two of its three eyes back. "Oh, excusez moi, where are my manners? Cecile. And… you are?"

"Brooks." She nodded to Jace. "Fatass."

"Oh would you get over it already!" Jace said.

"Have you seen my soon-to-be-wife?"

Dalon – with a certain glowing aura around him, not to mention his excited steps – had come up and tapped Brooks on the shoulder. "I know _I_ haven't." he finished, with a deep chuckle and a wave to his blotched eyes.

"Madame Grace…" Cecile pondered, moving a free arm to scratch the top of its dome. "She's with the armoured monsieur with the cloak."

The glow was dead. Dalon's painful memories returned. Memories of the quarry. Memories of the _Demon_. He only had a small glance before his eyes exploded. But the look of his family's murderer was not something to forget easily.

At first he could not get a word out, but he managed after a second. "Was he wearing a mask?"

Cecile stopped cleaning and turned. "He has a helmet, yes."

Ryder had not told anyone what he had done to find Grace. He did not warn Brooks or Jace. But Brooks was no fool. She had her suspicions and she was no idiot, and there was a tug on her mind that if she did not interfere, something terrible would happen.

"We should go and… and find him." Brooks cut in.

Dalon whipped towards her, his cheer long gone. "Let Cecile speak. Or perhaps you'd like to answer instead?"

The Deathclaw seemed to grow larger. Deadlier. It's disguise of humanity torn off like a cloak. It was then she spilt the beans. Releasing it all in a wave of excessive information that was both suspicion and truth. It came in a wave and left a drought in her head. The concept of her saying so much that she had not _really_ known was confounding. As if some otherworldly force had tortured her to speak. Dalon grinned savagely after she was done, the word 'charismatic' or 'charm' need not a voice, for Brooks was merely an old human who could not keep her thoughts secret. An old boggled mind like that need only to be frightened to open up old wounds.

Brooks suddenly burst into tears. Dalon growled and closed in on her. But in the next two seconds his head caught aflame and gunfire drowned out the screams of all others around them. The doors burst inward, which spewed forth power-armoured figures holding weapons of fire. Windows smashed, tables flipped, temperature rose. Using only signs military would understand, the lead Purifier ordered its lackeys to kill all that moved.

Brooks dropped to all fours and scurried away, wiping the tears off as she did so. Jace stayed up and fired but paid a small price for it. He clutched his big-but-small belly and joined the ground with less elegance then Brooks had. Dalon screamed faintly, too much flame caused his silence as the Deathclaw fell heavily.

Some of the other Deathclaws made the windows an exit. Two smashed through near where Cecile was happily cleaning along as if she found all this nothing to worry about. But once the shards hit the floor, she flew herself up and out of sight. Forgotten.

The human and ghoul crawled into the library that was soon to be no more than a pile of ash. They crouched themselves behind a pair of columns and spent a few precious seconds to catch there breaths.

"To the nest." Brooks yelled over the bullets, flames, and death. "We'll get out through there."

"What about-" A chunk of the column was shot off, whatever was on his mind was gone now. "Alright, let's move."

On all fours they scurried into the darkness that was slowly lighting up with golden flames.

 **4**

Ryder had taken off faster than Grace had. By the time she had gathered Tater into her arms Ryder was already out of sight and within Home's grounds. He counted six Purifiers walking in a V formation into Home's main entrance. The glass windows were vomiting out Deathclaws and flames alike (even a white robot which he failed to notice). He briskly crossed over to the doors, pulling out his heavy sniper rifle at the same time. Already wounded 'Claws, some burned, some shot, some fine, had gathered outside and watched the mess unfold helplessly. Helpless, because so much fire had blocked the way in.

Al was there, so was the other three leaders. Aana had a nasty burn on her right arm, but the others looked okay right now. They were resting down near a pair dying 'Claws by the front side. It was horrible to see this, but it didn't stop Ryder from moving closer to the doors.

"Your friends, and some of our own, are trapped still." Al said, standing up. "You go in, death comes. Stay out here, let's wait them out."

Ryder ignored him. Al understood this. Out came Death Bringer and he loaded it up and checked the bolt.

Not so much as a glance back came from him before he jumped inside.

Three Purifier bodies littered the isle, chunks of metal and flesh lying around them. Deathclaws on their fronts and backs were not many, thank D'law, but there were more of them around the podium, where the three remaining figures stood. Two of them burning away, one of them – the centre one – giving the orders.

The leaders armour was slightly different then its counterparts. Small blue rods lined its back and shoulders, firing off tiny bolts of electricity every few moments. It also seemed slightly more bulkier and thicker, he wondered how heavy it must be.

The leftmost Purifier turned his head a bit too far, it's great round orange eyes reflected the surrounding flames and bore into his own. It heaved its flamer around, but before it could aim Ryder had fired off a great shot into its helmet. Where the chin should have been was now a black hole. At first it stumbled, not realising how its armour could be destroyed, but before it could recover Ryder fired again and sent the human to the ground on its back, its head lolling side to side.

The leader held a flamer, but the other wielded a gun so big that it looked huge even in the power armours grasp. Ryder quickly dove to the right behind a overturned table before the raining thunder of the machine gun sounded off.

It fired forever, and it was so loud that Ryde's hearing was nothing but ringing, if he listened for long, he might as well be deaf. He went prone and crawled around until he came to the side of the church halls long seats. Holes shot through the seats, like glowing eyes they dotted all the way from the left side of the hall to the right, then back again. Cleary the gunner didn't know where he was. Good. He kept crawling until he reached the furthermost seats by the podium.

There the Purifier was, focusing fire near the entrance where it last saw Ryder. One huge clap of Death Bringer sent it down to its knees, a second finished it off and its body joined the floor.

"Ryder!" some filtered voice called through the noisy flames. "Is that you?"

Ryder leant his back against the bench but kept his head low. He reloaded the rifle whilst looking over his shoulder every few moments, trying to hear footsteps over the burning.

"Thought you were dead, you know." it went on. "I remember seeing your brains fly."

"I got better." Ryder called back.

Suddenly three blobs of green smacked the wall nearby. The wall melted, green lava spewing on impact, its sizzling only added to the greater fire.

"Still helping animals I see." It replied somewhere on his left. "You teach these things to talk, eh? Wonder what you told them."

"Well they asked me why you're wearing a helmet, Seth. I told them that if you didn't, you'd kill us with your looks."

"Ouch." Seth hissed. "You sure do know how to piss of the wrong people. Your playing with fire – no pun intended. You should quit now, while your still alive. But I'd be glad to send you back to hell if you want. You can go say hi to your mother for me."

Ryder saw movement on the far side of the podium and fired. he was rewarded with the shredding of glass.

"Why are you even doing this, Ryder?" Seth said, firing two shots back, both were too wide.

"Me? What about _you_?"

"Isn't it obvious? Deathclaws on their own are enough trouble already. I had no idea you were teaching them to talk! And that only proves they must die."

"Why?"

"Talking Deathclaws are worse than silent ones! What happens if they think for themselves? Or… think together even? Before we know it they'll be opening up shops and building cities! I've seen smart 'Claws before, Ryder, you have no idea what they are capable of."

"They've done nothing to you."

"Nothing _yet_. Now that I know there are more out here. A threat bigger than the Legion or NCR is upon us."

The fires cackled all around. Ryder got to a crouch and rushed to a column, rifle aimed up at the sky with his back planted firmly.

"We have codes." Seth said, not kindly. "Humans are not our problem. Ghouls… animals… Deathclaws… anything else _is_. But you… I think I'll make an exception. I'm not letting America die here, not by _you,_ not by these _things_. I'm not even going to let you make amends because I know you won't, your afflicted, you've been _brainwashed_ by whatever these things have told you."

Heavy thumps. Seth was on the move.

"Come now, Ryder, show me how you'd die for animals. I might laugh yet."

Ryder peeked from his cover the same time Seth did. The helmet that looked like that of a head of a bug met Ryder's bare face, the eye wound bringing a grin to Seth – Ryder somehow knew.

A burst of flame, a cracking shot. Both traded and fell backwards. Ryder's cloak caught aflame and he quickly patted it down before it could spread.

Ryder went to aim again, but Seth was closer than expected. He gave Ryder a heavy shoulder check and Ryder was sent back against the wall, sliding then stopping mere inches from a great bath of red hot fire. The flamethrower must have been hit instead, since Seth was unarmed, save for his futuristic-looking pistol which he had pulled out and fired. The bolt of plasma hit Ryder in the chest, melting the clothing and Kevlar that took most of the fire and saved his organs. His chest felt like the surface of a hot grill. Home would not stand for long. For the wall he hit began to crumble.

Ryder coughed and ran. It was the most he could do against someone like this. But like a bull Seth chased him down, one shoulder forward like the quarterback of a football team. Ryder turned and waited for Seth to draw closer. At the last moment Ryder rolled once more to the side. Seth crossed one end of the hall to the other and smashed headfirst into the ash-ridden wall on this side. A large humanoid outline shaped itself into the wall almost perfectly. The night outside turned dusty as the armoured figure crashed to the ground, skimming a few yards on one knee. Seth was about to stand up when a beastly bullet punctured the centre of his back, where a small valve was placed. This seemed to strike Seth hard, as at first he stiffened, then loosened, he growled under his helmet and turned back to face Ryder, who was standing with his legs wide by the hole in the wall.

But before Ryder or Seth could do anymore, Home collapsed.

Seth, having no reason to stay and get mauled by Deathclaws, stumbled to his feet and ran into the night.

Ryder narrowly avoided the falling rubble and ran backwards. The inner workings of Home started to groan in pain. He carefully made his way forward and soon came up to the podium again. He noticed the narrow shape of the aisle he walked down when he first came and went to it. But before he could take a step down it…

"Ryder…"

There, a lumbering figure stood, swaying from side to side. Ryder approached and recognised Dalon, one hand clutching the mess of his head. The top looked completely burned off, Dalon must have been too shocked to notice that his brains were starting to hang out. He was looking at Ryder with pure hatred, much like a Dark One would.

Ryder relaxed his posture a little. From the dazzling tinted windows came a brilliant light from the sun. It lit up the half of his face that still had an eye a great orange. The other eyeless half was basked into darkness. Ryder narrowed his eye as deep as Dalon's were.

Dalon stumbled forward a step, paused, then took another. "You… You are the _Demon_."

Ryder checked his ammo on Death Bringer once more. "Yes."

Dalon spoke with regretful nostalgia. "This whole while I welcomed you… If I had known…"

Dalon was looking away. But now it seemed his sight had returned, and his eyes were the first to see who Ryder really was.

"Dalon… I won't… I _can't_ , let you out of here alive."

Dalon sighed deeply. "I know. I'd tell them now, but…" he pointed weakly to its dome. "But that goes for you to, Demon. I won't let _you_ leave."

Ryder clicked the bolt back.

"What makes you think Grace won't find out?"

Ryder said nothing.

"How many more need to die just so you can keep your secret?"

Ryder said nothing.

"If you care for her, you would have told her long ago."

And he would have, had it not been for his lack of courage in the cart on that rainy day. Was Dalon right? Should he have told her? Does he really care about her?

"I… I do."

"You DON'T!" Dalon roared. "How long are you going to keep her in the dark? Will she live on for years, not knowing her 'best friend' is both a coward and a killer? Will she die like that? Will she ever learn the truth? _Will you tell her_?"

He wouldn't. No. But Dalon knew this already and did not wait for a reply.

"You're a disgrace. You've fooled everyone here but you will no longer. I won't die and see Grace being manipulated by your lies from the afterlife. That kind of torment… I'd wish she was here, to see how much you've destroyed. _You're no better than these Purifiers_."

"Please Dalon. Please… don't tell Grace, and we can both leave."

"You're a fool if you think I would say yes to that. No, you're end is here."

Dalon readied his claws.

"May D'law have mercy on you."

It only took a moment before someone went to D'law.

 **5**

They felt the loss slip in and out of their minds. The Four waited, as did Grace, Brooks and Jace, the latter holding all the children in his arms or on his back. The rest of the survivors piled behind them with big eyes. They waited and waited, listening to Death Bringer and the flames.

Grace was once more going to try and enter, but out came a figure, burnt like hell, wounded, but alive.

"Ryder!" Grace cried, rushing forward and bringing him out. He collapsed on the ground with Grace kneeling over him. Everyone gathered around and entered the tops of his vision.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where… Where is Dalon?"

He felt both cruel and horrible as he looked deep into her eyes. _It was me,_ he wanted to say. But he did not.

"He's… dead."

"What?" She said, at first so low it was unheard, but she repeated it much louder. "No! No, he can't be!"

"… I'm… sorry."

She got up, turned, and walked away. He didn't need to see her face to know she was crying. She had lost the last of her family, now Home lay in a burning ruin, there was nothing left for her.

 _And it's all my fault._

 **6**

That night they slept in the dirt. The children huddled with the mothers, the rest around them in a large protective circle. Maybe it was just Ryder, but he couldn't sleep after all _that_. It was not just because he had killed Grace's soon-to-be-husband – whom he had no other reason to kill other than to save his own skin – but because of his last words to him.

 _You're no better than these Purifiers_.

There was a dark truth to that. He would kill blindly if it would stop the truth from being revealed. But now that he had delayed it, had it hurt Grace more than it would have if Dalon had told her? He thought no, that betrayal hurt more than loss did. He wanted nothing more than to go find her again, talk, do anything, try and help, but decided against it. Instead he met the dust and wrapped his cloak around himself to counter the cold desert air, he idled for ours, sitting there and staring at the dying flames of Home.

After a while, the critters of the night fell silent as a Deathclaw made its way back from wherever it went. She seemed to study the lying down Pack, and Ryder could feel her eyes on him. He faked slumber – cowardice topped with fear forced him to lay still.

It sat itself down near him, turned away, and slept.

 _How does it feel, Demon?_ It was Dalon, perhaps cursed to live in his head. _How does it feel now that you've got what you wanted?_

It was not good, that was for sure.

Dawn would break by the time Ryder fell asleep.

 **7**

He woke up last. The Deathclaws were near the remains of Home - it looked heavily destroyed, with most of the roof and walls missing, but he could faintly hear Jace discussing repairs, and the acknowledgments of Al. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Grace was hunkered next to him, as normal-looking on the outside, but not much could be said for how she felt…

"Morning," she said, smiling with sadness. "you okay?"

"I'm-"

( _terrible_ )

"-fine, what about you?"

She shrugged. "Ifeel-"

( _like shit_ )

"-fine as well."

There was an awkward silence that followed. She broke it eventually by getting to her feet and stretching, then twisting to his direction and saying, "We should get moving."

"Moving?" he asked, standing as well and picking up the guns he left on the ground last night – within reaching distance, of course.

"Yes, moving." she said, not sounding herself (which wasn't so surprising).

"To where?"

"To Vegas!" she replied sourly and quickly, this startled Ryder, he expected her to simmer down and return to her lovely self, but she did not.

"Grace, maybe you should have some time-"

"Time to what? Time to mope? Time to let Seth get away? I'm not going to sit here and mourn, that's just a waste. I want to end the life of the one who killed Dalon, and I know who it is! It's Seth, and I think he's a Demon, _the_ Demon. And we should move now, and quickly."

Ryder looked down then back up again. She had never talked like this before – he had himself to blame. "You should stay, at least for a while. Get your bearings and-"

"I'm not yours to command, Ryder!." The venom in her voice softened only a tad, before Ryder woke too many others had mourned for her, she was quite sick of it.. "Please don't be like that. Not now."

The glare on her features lingered. He looked away, ashamed. Something inside had been hurt, like an uppercut to something special.

She went on. "We're going into Vegas, and we're going to find where Seth is." It sounded like an order. "Are we leaving now? Or are you just going to treat me like a child?"

"O-Okay, we'll… head off, now."

She sighed, "Thank you."

Sure, she was a youth – which she had changed that night, he wondered what she had done but would never know – but she certainly did not act like it. It would be a long terrible task at this stage. With Ryder self-sulking and Grace to hot-headed, they would surely fail if something did not change. They settled that they would skip breakfast and move on quickly. Ryder did not see Grace give many goodbyes to the Pack, but he made sure he visited every one of them. Each white, albino, grey, blue or whatever in between gave him either a bow, a grasp of the hand or a downright big bear hug. There were marginally fewer than when he first arrived, but at least they had not all perished, and that the children were saved.

He moved on to the Four. Yadon was first. He motioned for Ryder to move closer and he obliged, they spoke low so only they could here themselves.

"Good fortunes in your travels. Please take care of Grace. She's… lost so much. Your all she's got."

"That's not what she thinks."

"Then change her mind. I sense that she's all _you_ have as well. Make her see this."

"I don't think I should."

"If you don't, you won't live long enough for us to help you. Goodbye for now, Courier."

Ryder nodded and next up was Aana. She hadn't said much – she admitted that she hated humans and simply stayed out of the way. Ryder didn't know if her parting words were threats or statements. But she appeared to be content with his leaving. She gave a curt nod and motioned for him to move on.

Zak now. Once more they spoke closely together and on low volume.

"Remember what I said. Tarea – the Dark Al – is still out there, and he may have others, our children will not be safe forever."

"I'll find a way."

"We'll see. Farewell."

Ryder accepted Zak's outstretched hand with a nod. He moved on to Al, who gave him a big hug right away. "Thank you… for all you've done." Al dusted off Ryder's back heavily but heartily. "We've lost many, but our future is safe, thanks to you. We will rebuild Home – we know how to use a hammer, but… could you do us one more favour? Before we part?"

"Anything."

"Can you get us some building materials? Maybe something… not flammable?"

"Oh… uh, yeah, yeah I'll see what I can do."

Al grinned. "Thank you. Call on us anytime, Ryder. You have our support for whatever you have planned, we are not many, but we will be there. Would you like an escort to where you're going next?"

"No, thank you." He gave a hopeful smirk in Grace's direction. "Grace is enough trouble."

Al chuckled like an old man who had never done so in a long time. This was not Ryder's aim. Grace simply shrugged and found the sky more interesting – Ryder shook his head at himself; _stupid stupid stupid._

Jace was near the front side of the wreckage of Home – pistol on his belt – staring at Ryder expectantly. Brooks was next to him with hands on her hips, she was talking with a Deathclaw, and Ryder waited patiently until she was done and she turned to him.

"Thanks," Ryder said, giving them a small smile. "you two… just thank you."

"Hey," Jace said. "that's okay, you needed me anyway."

Brooks scoffed and made an annoyed sound. "And your damn food. If I had a gun…"

"Wait!" Jace spun around to face her. "Why don't you carry a gun?"

Brooks had not been seen wielding any sort of weapon since Ryder saw her. It peaked his curiosity and he inclined his head to her answer.

"So I won't be tempted to shoot you."

Jace stood back and raised his head. "… Ah. Well! It's best I be off. It's been an honour."

Ryder asked him where he was going.

"Oh, I have some business with the NCR. A little bird told me that some of my gang was captured and held in the fortress over there." He pointed west. "Of course, I have to bail them out… once again. Put it there, Ryder." Jace opened his arms for a hug.

"I'll settle for a handshake. I wouldn't want to jumble up your belly."

"Mmmm, you want to know why I stuck with you down at Nipton? Where you killed my guys?"

"Because your desperate?"

"No."

"You thought you could get money?"

"Nooo."

"Publicity?"

"No!"

"Shameless self promotion?" Brooks added brightly.

"No you fools!" Jace sharply replied, but quickly composed himself by raising his hands with a breath, then lowering them with a sigh. "When I first saw you, Ryder, I saw _potential_ , I got a good feeling about you. And look what turned up! A human-Deathclaw alliance! Not to mention a love triangle between-"

Brooks kicked Jace's shin, hard. He got the message.

"Anyway… Fuck that hurt! Ahem, anyway, now that you've done this, I reckon you could do anything! Those Purifiers are as good as gone! Look me up if you got time, I'll assemble my crew for you."

"Where will I find you?"

"I sorta drift from place to place. Hell, I think it would be easier if _I_ looked for _you_. I have a way of appearing… as I'm sure your aware of..."

"We both are." Brooks grumbled.

"… But my people need me. I'm sure you'll have more crazy tales to tell when we next meet, and I'd love to hear them!"

There would be insane things to come, there was no doubt about that. Ryder turned to Brooks. "What about you?"

She gave a look of faint gladness to the Pack behind them. "I'm gonna stay here for a while. Get back into the swing of teaching again. Not for long… I might see you in Vegas in a day or two. But here," She motioned for his pip=boy and he held his arm out to her. "This is where the Purifier base is."

He had finally got a vital piece of information, but he had a while yet before they were ready to attack.

"Ryder!" came a bark from behind him. He turned, and there – flanked by two other tiny Deathclaws – was Tater with the saddest frown it could muster. It offered itself to be picked up and Ryder obliged, cradling it like he had done to Grace all the way back in Goodsprings. It began sucking its thumb, he held back laughing.

"I'll see you soon, Tater."

"Tater! Ryder! Stay!"

"I would if I could, little guy."

It put its arms over his shoulders to give him the tiniest of hugs. He patted its back and avoided the small spikes there. A moment later Brooks put her arms out to take Tater off. And with a small fight, Tater let go at last. He cradled into Brooks and waved his tiny hand back and forth to mock a goodbye wave.

Grace and Ryder stood side by side with Jace nearby. The Pack waved as well. "Well met, well part." said the Four together. "Heed the Red Twins, Grace."

No one _but_ Grace heard that last part. This would be forgotten for a long time, but it would surface when it needed to.

 **8**

Grace never forgot their first encounter with the people of Vegas and its outlying ruins, it was a memory within easy reach. All that had happened beyond now was a surprise, and surprises had a way of sticking with her until the end. She remembered the lights that changed every night and day – all varied, strange. She remembered ascending that roulette-shaped tower that reached the clouds. The odd white suit Ryder wore and _didn't_ wear. Yeah, _that_ memory was a keeper. But even more vivid was the one that happened before all that.

Of Ryder singing.

But before any of these things was the road to Freeside. There was a dark sense that lingered as the sun made its skyward travel. Bad days were ahead, but so were the good ones.


	18. Chapter 18: Your Place in the World

**Your Place in the World**

 **1**

Wearing a brand-spanking new milky-white suit, the young man crossed his legs and planted them up on the desk he was sitting casually behind.

"Send them up."

Three figures of huge stature entered through the elevator across the room. The young man spread his arms to them.

"Welcome to Vegas, Purifiers."

But before this happened…

 **2**

… they entered Freeside. Barrel fires and street signs bathe the streets in a hellish glow. It was all no better than a crater – with half-ruined buildings been turned into brothels, strip clubs, bars or motels or all of the above. To think that living just on the outskirts of New Vegas was worse off than living out in the wild was an absurd thought. But life was absurd, Ryder walked into this place with a Deathclaw by his side, you couldn't get any more crazier than that, could you?

"Watch the alleys," Ryder warned as they crossed the first street. Grace looked around.

"I don't think anyone is foolish enough to attack us."

Just then a junkie, with a knife in one hand and a bottle in the other, charged at them with a shriek that shook their ears. Aiming right for Ryder's throat.

Grace was too quick. She picked up the junkie by the scruff of his neck and pounded him once into the ground, knocking the guy out cold, Ryder wouldn't be surprised if the guy died then and there. It looked like the concrete broke beneath him.

Grace readied her claws.

"No," Ryder said, hunkering next to the man. He checked his pockets and only found two caps, which he didn't take.

"Why?" she spat. "He attacked _us_."

Ryder stood. "Maybe he didn't know better – guy's drunk, looks like."

She studied him heavily for a moment. She backed off and sunk her claws away into her fingers.

Many more streets twisted and turned off of the main road that lead them to the only gate into Vegas. A great neon aura radiated off the hidden buildings behind a great wall that held back anything and anyone from getting into Vegas. Golden, it was probably so beautiful in there that those people living inside probably forgot what the dead world outside looked like.

The gate to Vegas was surrounded by scaffolding. And up and around these were Securitron's. One of them stood out, one painted in white stripes. It stopped them just before the scaffolding, staring them down with a mean cop on its little TV screen.

"Halt!" It declared. "Present a credit check before going on ahead – trespassers will be shot!"

Ryder looked at Grace. She shrugged. He turned back to the robot. "What's the credit check?"

"Visitors must prove that they hold the required minimum balance before entering The Strip."

"And how much is that?"

"Please wait…" It's internal wiring clicked for a few moments. "Is it just you two?"

Ryder nodded.

"Three thousand caps should suffice."

"… Could you say that again, please?"

"Three thousand caps." The Securitron replies slowly and in a tone that resembled smugness way too much.

His face was so comical that Grace snorted. He heard this but dismissed it as nothing but similar disgust.

Ryder was speechless, but that didn't last long when he remembered an old 'friend' that had given him advice some time ago. At first the words were blank, but he remembered them clearly.

"Robot," he said, "Victor says howdy."

The robot jerks, as if it hiccupped, and the screen went static for a few seconds. Just when Ryder thought he might have accidently broken it, the screen came back to life with a smiling cowboy head.

"Well hey friend!" said Victor. "Made it to Vegas did we? Your gonna love all the pretty scenery we got inside."

Victor turned to Grace. "Oh, this your little friend from Goodsprings? Certainly has grown, hasn't it?"

So he _had_ been watching them. No matter, Grace said nothing so Ryder did. "We need your help Victor, we can't get in."

"Don't have the caps, partner? What a shame." Victor said this in a sort of _gotchya, didn't I?_ voice that could piss off anyone.

"However!" Victor declared. "There is one thing I can do for you's. A discount!"

Ryder sighed in relief. "Thanks, Vic."

"Two thousand nine hundred and ninety nine caps can get you both through the gate!"

"…"

The three of them looked to one another for a few moments of silence.

"Sorry, friend." Victor said to Ryder. "It's the most I can do. Big Boss is making a big exception to let your big friend here in."

"Big Boss?"

"Come back with the caps, friend." Victor replies. "You'll learn more then."

The screen flickered back to the cop face and went back to the gate on its lone wheel.

Ryder and Grace faced each other. It was Ryder who broke the silence.

"Wanna get something to eat? I heard of a decent club just down there." He points.

Grace looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Familiar. "No! The gate, the money, w-we have to find a way in!"

"You got three thousand caps in that bag of yours?"

She growled lowly. "I don't. But that's not the point."

"Well, if you have a better idea," He folds his arms. "I'm listening."

She locks onto his eyes with her own, standing a bit taller now as she goes to answer, but ends up holding her tongue. Ryder immediately regretted this, and wanted to apologise but didn't. She waves towards where he pointed.

"Go on," she huffed. "Let's go to this… club."

He did without a word.

 **3**

The club was down the dankest street of Freeside. This, Grace said, was feral, and that was coming from _her_. But Ryder said that no, she hadn't seen the inside yet. The sign that dangled above a smashed window (pouring orange light out into the street) and a wonky door was something incomprehensible. Something about a thing called a Mu-ton.

Ryder knocked on the door, and the door nearly toppled over inward, had an old man with wild campfire-shaped white hair and a baby-blue suit and a bright yellow tie not stopped it as soon as he had. He beamed with big teeth and tried to adjust his door to the way it was, but ended up ripping it off the hinges and leant it off to the side instead.

"Oh hi! Great to see you young man! Boy! This door is always giving us quite the hassle, ha!" the man with the crazy suit said all this within a second or two, all the while trying to fix the door.

"Sorry," Ryder said, reaching forward. "You need a hand or-"

" _No_!" cried the man as if he had been shot. "Leave it! _Leave-it!_ Don't touch it or you'll snap it in half like a twig! As if you hadn't caused enough ruckus!"

Suddenly the not-so-sane man ended up chucking the door behind him into his establishment. (Grace swore she heard a man cry 'my leg!' when he did) He then adjusted his eye-burning tie and seized Ryder's hand in a forced handshake.

"Welcome, welcome! Do come in and out of the cold. Table for one?"

"Well-"

"Great! Ha-Ha! We have alllllll manner of dishes that – SWEET MARY MOSES WHAT IS THAT?"

He let go of Ryder and fell back against the outer wall. Grace eyeballed him casually. Ryder told him that she was friendly.

"Sheesh!" he shrieked, fixing himself up and standing slowly – waving away Ryder's helping hands. "Oh my god you scared the hell out of me! I almost had a heart attack!"

Grace was taken back – this guy sounded crazy.

"Ahem!" The man adjusts his tie _again_ and fixed his voice so he sounded almost normal. "Okay I'm fine. ANYWAY! You're here to partake in the commandment of hospitality, is that right?"

Ryder and Grace exchanged a look like something out of a cheesy comedy for a second before turning back to the man. Grace picked clean a nail on instinct. But the old man didn't seem to content with this, for he approached her without hesitance.

"Are you picking a claw? Your picking a claw aren't you?" He turns to Ryder. "Does it do this often? Does that sound – you know, that loud sustained _screeching_ sound whenever you sharpen a blade – bother you? Cause it bothers me. Don't you, kid? Don't you hate it to? You know, it really hurts my ears, do you have any control over this thing? Because now would be the time to exercise it. That sound – that _terrible_ SHARPENING sound – can drive people INSANE!" He jabs a finger into his hair.

Ryder thought Grace would do something similar to what she did to that trooper in Boulder City – the wonky thumb incident – but no. She was still. She was taken back and quite speechless.

Ryder tried to change the topic. "Uh, nice place! Heard a lot about it!"

"Heard a lot about it, huh?" he replied. "I bet you heard about how Gath runs a club in the most DANGEROUS part of the city. I dread walking back to my apartment – someone might just—" He hits his hands together. "- _smack_ me over the head and steal my clothes off of my dirty back! I'd just be lying there in the gutter, with people SPITTING on me and picking me over like a bunch of vultures! I'll be like a corpse, like a dog, like a mongrel, like an ANIMAL!"

After those words he had closed the distance to Ryder's face with his own to only a few inches. But Gath backed off and shook his hands nonchalantly. "Bah! God forbid no one would help me! No! No one can be bothered in Freeside – what would be the point! No reason _not_ to am I right?"

"…" Ryder said nothing, nor could he.

Gath entered the doorless doorway. After a few moments he peeked his head out. "Come on then! Enter! Enter!"

Grace moved the upper left corner of her mouth up and faced Ryder – it was a look of plain bewilderment. He also did the same. But he entered anyway with Grace right behind him.

Inside was a big room with a stage (a band of four were playing behind a microphone stand – smooth and soothing music) and a bar opposite it. There were numerous four seater tables underneath a large chandelier that hung from a vaulted ceiling. The room bathed orange, it was difficult to look into at first.

"No!" Gath cried and clutched Ryder's shoulder so hard he stopped completely. Grace tried to avoid walking into him and ended up tripping and hitting the floor off to the side. Ryder and Gath remained standing and facing each other, looking as if _both_ of them thought the _other_ was crazy.

"Now look, you've tracked mud and dirt all over my fresh carpet. I just got that, oh my god!" Gath said in an ever so slightly higher pitched tone and got down on all fours. Grace –with her care to not hit anything or anyone on her way down – was still recovering out of view.

"Now I _really_ am like an animal aren't I? Now I get debris-" He pronounced it like it was spelt – _deb-ris_. "Deep, _deep_ within the fibres. Now I'm never gonna get all the pieces out. One day I'll walk on a sharp bit of dirt and break my damn _hip_! Is that what you want? To _kill_ me?"

"O-Of course not," Ryder said, getting into a crouch. "Let me help-"

"Get back! Back I say! Forget the whole thing, just leave it! Come!" He stands, now speaking normal once more. "Your table awaits."

Grace stood with a groan. Ryder still hadn't noticed her fall. She followed. There were about thirty people sitting at different tables. But as one, they shifted to the ones the furthest from the entrance, taking their meals with them. They were crammed so far away from the Deathclaw that Gath picked the one closest to the door. Despite the now available arrange of tables.

Ryder sat down and put his weapons under his chair. Grace –with an effort, curse these big bones! – sat opposite him.

"Alright, we all settled then?" Gath asked, but he didn't wait for a response, he tossed a menu at each of them – the one for grace hit her in the head, she growled but Gath didn't notice. "We got a comedian coming to entertain us today. Fifteen caps, _each_."

Ryder shrugged and handed the money over, Grace witnessed this silently, but her face was like death. _We need three thousand money's and he's just handing it over!_

"Great!" Gath yelled, pocketing the cash. "Order over there," He pointed to the bar. "Oh, and here's my special paper. Freeside's Free Tribune! Its free!"

A paper was slapped onto the table lined with neat cutlery. Gath left them, skipping, and began going mad at another unfortunate couple in the next room behind a set of stairs, which lead up to the second level balcony. Women wearing minimal clothing and with big red lips leaned over the railings, blowing kisses at any and all.

" _This_ is the nice place you spoke of?" Grace said. "Smells like body fluids."

"Better than nothing." Ryder said, and opened the paper. This was on the front cover.

 _Freeside's Free Tribune_

 _December 25 - 2281_

 _Issue number 3 out of many. 'Gath is God, God is life, as handsome as your best friends wife!_

 _Total dead: A lot. Lottery numbers: 7, 42, 21, 94, 10743, 11, Better luck next time from Gath and Bath!_

 _Today in Freeside, a junkie got killed! That makes it a new Vegas record of 4 days without a death! Truly the Mojave is looking brighter already! But yeah anyways its all the same for us piss-poor folk just within hearing distance of the pommies over the wall! But anyway I'm just gonna go ahead and fill up some more space to make this page look more wordy, because more words looks like I've done more work! The best action for this is a picture, so here you go!_

( _Right here in a box is a photo of Gath outside this very club, holding two thumbs up, and still wearing the same attire)_

 _Anyway so blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah theres a new force in Primm and its only HALF human! I'm talking DEATH to the CLAWS! That's right, a little baby BEAST has been spotted inside the town mail delivery express building and walks freely in and out! There was a witness there that said this: "There was something in the air when that little critter came into town for my help, and I'm not talking about the gamma radiation! I fixed her up and she's doin fine. Quite a tale! Quite a story! Speaking of which, we've uncovered an old relic from the past, a story about a talking snake-lady! (See on pg.6) The red twins will be performing tomorrow night, (fear their music! Oooo) so drop on in and say hi to Gash and friends!_

Ryder turned to page six. There was a huge story crammed onto the following pages, and he quickly scanned the synopsis and a few paragraphs before setting it down with a hearty laugh. "Talking snakes? Of all alien species to invade this planet, they come up with _that_? Heh, get real!"

"What are you talking about, sugar?" Grace asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just some story about a friendly alien snake that talks. Don't matter. Have you decided on what you want?"

She scanned the menu for a few more moments, then turned it over to him and pointed to a set of words. "This one. Squindy- something. It sounds nice."

Ryder looked at it, nodded, then stood up. "Very well, my lady, I shall return shortly."

He walked to the bar-

 _(She twiddled her thumbs and looked down. My lady? she thought, amused for a moment)_

-and got the woman's attention. She was old, and wore stinging clothes much like Gath's. She gave him the warmest of smiles and slowly placed her hands on the counter.

"Oh, hello," she said, slowly, calmly, as if her words might break her inner peace. "how are you today, my sweet?"

"Fine, thanks." Ryder replied. "Me and my friend would like two of these."

She clasps his hands into hers, smiling. "But of course, we wouldn't want to keep you waiting, hmm?" Her voice was as smooth as the carpet. "And would you like something to drink?"

Ryder tried to pull his hands free but met unusually large resistance. "Just a bottle of that, please."

"Yeeees, very good." She got the bottle with one hand without turning around. She bent toward him and whispered, " _It's on the house, darling_."

"Great!" Ryder yelled a little too loudly, and escaped her clutch and returned to Grace – who didn't look pleased or shocked or anything. He thought about asking what was wrong, but already knew the answer. He put the bottle down while he sat – glasses were already here.

"You drink?" he asked.

"I do now." she replied, twisting the tablecloth with one finger. He poured a good amount into each glass and slid one over to her, she caught it before it could fall.

The comedian walked up the steps of the stage a few moments later. He was a short fat little man in a t-shirt and shorts, his sandals clipped loudly as he stood before the microphone stand.

"ALRIGHT EVERYBODY WHOSE READY TO ROCK AND ROLL?" The comedian looked left, at them, then right, at everyone else. No one commented on his entrance.

" _Tough crowd_ …" he murmured into the mic, but stood tall nonetheless. "So I says to my wife 'You wanna know what makes you similar to a casino?! Liquor in the front, poker in the back!'"

One guy clapped and laughed somewhere off to the side. But that person soon fell silent.

"Then later I came home and my wife was packing her things. I says to her 'Hey! Where are you going?' and she says to me, 'To New Vegas, women there get payed two hundred dollars for blowies and I'm doing it for you for free.' I then says to her 'Hey! How are you gonna live on four hundred dollars a year, sweetie?'"

No laughing this time. Gath came over to them with the old creepy woman from the bar. They both held a dish each, with some odd looking food in them.

"Have you met my wife Bath?" Gath said. "Eh? EH?"

"Yes." Ryder replied quickly as Gath passed him his plate. "She… What's that?"

Hanging around Bath's neck was a silver chain. Just above her cleavage was a head of a smirking snake made of pure gold. There was something about it that kept his mind spinning. Why hadn't he noticed it yet?

"Oh my wife and her damn witchcraft necklace!" Gath yelped. "It cost us more than this club did. Cost ME more, say thank you."

"Where did you get it?" Grace asked, sharing curiosity with him.

"Oh," Bath said calmly, as if talking to a baby. "It was gift from God himself."

"More like the eye catcher in that pawn shop down the road that SUCKED us dry." Gath mumbled. "Oh but you two didn't need to know that. Come on Bath! Stop showing off like some prostitute, we've already got plenty of those!"

Bath and Gath left. Maybe that necklace was important in some other time.

Grace tapped the table to grab Ryder's attention. "What was that 'comedian' talking about, Ryder?"

Ryder spied a few guards closing in on the stage, the man would probably be thrown out soon. "Which part?"

"That last bit. A Blow-ee. What's that?"

"Oh! Well I uh, it's a human… thingy."

"Is it a big human thingy?"

"Depends on who's involved."

Grace frowned. "What's so funny, Ryder?"

Ryder hid his smirk. He was having too much fun. "Nothing. Continue."

"Well, he said his wife was doing blowies for him, so is it like a gift or something?"

Ryder snorted.

"You know what? Forget it."

"Come on Grace," Ryder said, still grinning. "don't be like that."

" _You_ come on, tell me what's so funny."

"All right, all right, it's to do with… um… sexual activities. Among other things."

Grace stared at him in silence.

"You know, show a bit of leg… man and woman… genitalia? No? Man, never thought my life would get to this point. I think you get the picture… Do you?"

Grace continued to stare at him.

"Can we move on? Got anymore questions?"

"… Yes." she said. "What did he mean by 'poker in the back'?"

Ryder held himself from throwing his head back and laughing and replied as best he could. "Again, it's very… what's the word… _provocative_ , to poke a girl in the back."

"How? You poke me sometimes."

"No, I do _not_."

"Have you poked females before?"

"Yeah, they call me one pump chump."

"Are you married?"

"Ha! You think I would've told you by now, yeah? But no, I'm single. This is my first date in a long time, Grace. Especially with a killing machine, that's a first."

"Is that all I am to you? A killing machine?"

He rested one hand on one of her own and caught her gaze with his cloudy eye. "Of course not, you're… I didn't mean it that way."

She nodded slightly and he let go of her. She went for the cutlery, but decided to pick up the food with two fingers instead. She turned it about, examining it carefully.

"What was this called?" she asked. "Squindy lingy?"

"No no," he replied. " _Squid linguine._ "

"Squid ling-nee-wee, right."

"No, _linguine_."

"Wee-nee-gwee-nee?"

"Close enough, Grace. Go on, eat your Weeneegweenee."

She dropped it into her fang-riddled maw and chewed it down contently. It was quite refreshing, and the flavour was like nothing else. She voiced her interest and Ryder seemed happy to hear it. He had the same Squid- dish as well and ate greedily.

The comedian was bundled in the guards arms and was carried past there table. With a cry: "Yowww!" he was thrown out into the cold street. The guards dusted there palms and went back to their duty.

Gath and Bath came up to them once more. The voice of insane and sane arguing over the club.

"I told you, you excuse for a woman, that if you kick that guy out, we got NOTHING to provide to our guests! What is a club without comedy?"

Bath, in that soothing, peaceful voice, replied with, "Breathe, Gath, Breathe. Did you hear what he was saying? It is quite inappropriate for our new, uh, 'non-human guest', don't you think?"

 _Tell me about it,_ Ryder thought.

"ONE of you will replace that fat guy." said Gath, pointing a crooked finger at them both.

Ryder laughed. Then, when Grace didn't join him and he saw Gath and Bath's stern faces, he shut himself up.

"I see your laughing there, kid. You think it's funny?" Gath said, getting close. "I'm trying to run a business here and I get people like YOU waltzing in like you think you own the joint. All overconfident and no bone. 'Oh, I was in the paper! I get to bring my Deathclaw wherever I want!' Well guess what? If you DON'T do this right now, your banned!"

"I'm banned?" Ryder asked.

"Ya banned!" Gath agreed.

"We should go," Grace put in, making all face her. "I've had enough of all this."

That evening was full of odd wonders, it seemed, because Ryder stood up and agreed to Gath and Bath. Grace, for the first time since leaving Home, now showed emotion that wasn't doom or gloom. "Ryder! What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

"Excellent!" Gath said. "But if you balls this up, I'll make sure you both never come into Freeside for free! Let's go, up the stage, boy!"

Bath put herself in Ryder's seat and twisted her head to the Deathclaw. "Don't worry, Gath is always like this. Do you have any idea what your little friend's act will be?"

"Yes," Grace said. "Yes I do."

 **4**

Ryder removed his cartridge belts and put them with his weapons below the table. He went up the stage and stood in the orange light of the chandelier, unarmed and slim-hipped. For a moment he simply stood there silently in his war-torn and dirty armour and looked over the watching faces, who had all gone silent. Grace put her chin to her palms as she leant on the table a bit more, looking quite expectant and worried as she looked right at him. He felt so lonely up there. He _looked_ so lonely as he stood there in the light, as if gathering strength, before turning and speaking briefly to the band behind him, and showed them something on the neck of one of the instruments. They all nodded. Grace guessed they knew the song.

Expectantly, the crowd waited, none more than the Deathclaw in the room. She was absolutely delighted when Ryder voyaged a song with a true voice, filled with emotion. It was a song about… well, that's the thing, isn't it? She had an idea, but wasn't entirely sure what it was about. The meaning is all up to the listener.

Ryder sang,

 _I've made my mistakes, believe me_

 _All I ever wanted was for you to love me_

 _But all I did was bring things down for you_

 _But just know that I still love you_

Just a sly glance to Grace that lasted only a second.

 _If you should ever leave me_

 _What good would living do me?_

 _If you should ever know what I did to you_

 _Just know that I still love you_

Two people began to sing with him. Then four, then eight, then well over a dozen and then soon everyone was singing along and clapping in the off-beat. Grace looked about like she was a child at her first carnival. Most of the people were starting to sway. The expression Grace saw on all the faces was the same: pure joy.

At least three more verses followed these. Beads of sweat began drawing down the sides of Ryder's face. Then at a signal Grace knew not of, he suddenly ended by dragging on the word 'you' for so long Grace thought he'd pass out. _Slow down, Ryder,_ she thought. _It's not like I can carry you outta here without looking like even_ more _than a killing machine._

But he did not pass out and he finished his song. A thunder of applause followed this, people from all over the club had come to see this (even the prostitutes stopped their work to see) and the place was very crowded. Ryder gave a comical bow and walked off the stage, giving thanks to the band as he did so. He fought his way back to the table, where Gath, Bath and Grace were waiting.

"Well done my boy, very well done!" Gath said proudly. "I'm glad AND disappointed that I didn't get to kick you out!"

"Thanks for giving me the chance." Ryder replied, sitting. Bath placed their money back on the table as well as a set of keys.

"For you, darling." she said in a motherly way. "Do you know many other songs?"

"One or two."

"We have a proposition for you, if you're interested in-"

"-In money!" Gath cut in. "Lots of it, for sure!"

"Enough to get into Vegas?" he asked. If so, they had found there fifteen minutes in the sun, it would seem.

"But of course!" Gath replied happily. "We can talk more tomorrow, your room is last on the right, upstairs!"

Once more, the elderly couple left them. Ryder turned to Grace, who was looking at him with a sort of hungry amazement . He picked up the keys and twirled them around on his finger. looking quite pleased.

"Where did all _that_ come from?"

"Well, Grace, I couldn't tell you. Let's head up, I haven't used a bed in… forever."

They got up and went up the stairs. Those who had the courage to approach thanked Ryder and he happily nodded to them. Just when Ryder had the usual thought about how Grace should've caused more chaos being as she is, they passed a Radscorpion wearing pincer-shaped oven mitts and carrying a tray full of cookies. It didn't give them an opportunity to take one, and Ryder was just fine with that. So maybe there could be more non-human critters around.

Ryder unlocked there room (Number 23) and inside there was a small box room with one queen-sized bed and a bedside table with a lamp. Once Grace entered, Ryder locked the door and put his weapons under the bed. He also undid his cloak to cover them up. He tested the mattress with his hands: soft as clouds! He took off his boots, and the armour covering his legs. Soon all of his ammo, stim's and other items were lying at his feet.

As he undid his vest with many bullet and plasma wounds – which revealed a black t-shirt – he lifted one arm and sniffed. He frowned, then asked: "Do I stink?"

From behind him Grace said, "Like shit, yeah."

Ryder suddenly realized that there was two of them and only the one bed. He twisted around and saw she had placed her little mailbag on the bed table. She took that moment to stretch her long arms behind her back. A wave of confusion and anxiety clouded over him at that moment, she looked so deadly at that moment, and he would laugh later at what he said after that moment of compromise that she didn't invite but _he_ started.

"We sharing?"

She suddenly looked rather awkward. She froze, but appeared in control of herself, as if this question really meant nothing to her. A keen eye might have known better.

"Y-You sure? I can sleep on the floor, you look like you need the rest."

Ryder shakes his head, "So do you."

"Well…" She eyed the floor for a moment. "It was comfortable back when I was little."

That's right. Back near Goodsprings, when she snuggled up to him and into his cloak. From then until now she had almost got married, so her balking stance was understandable.

Ryder pulled away the pristine covers and lied down on his back. He kept his eye trained on the roof as Grace slowly slid down onto the bed as well. But with her sudden weight and size, Ryder fought and failed as his body slowly slid into the indent her great body made. His arm brushed hers but he didn't dare move. Neither did she. But, she let out a sigh of content and this comforted him.

He leant his hand over to the lamp switch. "Goodnight, Grace."

"Goodnight… _Dyrer_."

He gave a quiet chuckle. "Why did you stop calling me that?"

"You wouldn't leave my mind alone when you died."

"… Oh. Sorry?"

He heard her huff. "Goodnight, Ryder."

He switched the light off. He wouldn't sleep for a long while.

 **5**

Slowly, Grace worms her way closer towards her human friend. So slow, might've been an hour before she laid her arm over his own and turned her body to face him. He had rolled onto his side, unconsciously, she determined, for his breathing was peaceful and she loved listening to it. She relaxes in the half-spooning position and rests her head on the soft pillow.

 _Sleeping with a Deathclaw,_ Ryder thought, _wonder what ma' would say if she saw me now. Probably scream at me, 'Ryder, ohmygawwwd what're ya doin' ya dumb bastard?'_

His thoughts were a bit too loud for his own good, and Grace found herself smirking.

 **6**

Since the day her Pack in the quarry was killed, all she ever thought was that whatever lord or creator of life had thrown her away and was done with her.

Sure, whatever being that looked over her had given her Ryder not too long after her families death, and that little adventure was good while it lasted. Well, aside from that poison fiasco, and the underfed times, but she couldn't blame Ryder for that. And the breaking of the cage of her head when she had the first tat.

But of course, he died, hadn't he? Just like everyone else. Then Dalon came back… then left…

But Ryder came back. Ryder got another chance at life. Maybe Dalon could have a chance too? Maybe her old Pack? Mother and father? No. No that was a stupid request and D'law – or whoever – wouldn't grant it.

Maybe it was all down to luck. Such an odd concept, that things just _happened_ because they just DID. No reason behind it. None at all.

Was it luck that brought Ryder back to her? Was there no other reason why he came back? She thought… no. He was with her here, in this bed, for a reason.

Okay, that thought sounded weirdly embarrassing now that she thought about it.

After Dalon had passed away – burned by that monster called Seth – after that tragedy she had taken a vow of silence on their way to 'Freeside'. She took his death as a hope that maybe… just maybe… she should soon follow in her whole families deathly footsteps.

There's just so much death any one person can handle.

And this human – this one here, under one of her arms, sleeping contently with his body rising and falling… _grace_ fully, heh, get it? – had already died once, and if he died again she knew he would not come back again. She would rather it be her, so she couldn't feel the pain of losing _another_ friend.

Sniffing the stale room's air, (There was a tinge of body fluids… Not much, but still…) and stretched her arms out. She was still half draped in the sheets – she found them very comfy, but not the same as back at Home.

She turned her head to face Ryder's back.

He had never removed his armour the entire time they had been together. The exception being that jumpsuit in the Sierra, but all she saw there were his hands and lower arms. Now she had a bit of a better image. The upper arms in particular looked a bit bigger than the lower parts, and she wondered what was beneath the sleeve there.

Gently, she rolled the sleeve a little further up, but when he shuffled around she quickly snapped her hand back and laid still. But he did not wake but rather turned so he faced the ceiling, mumbling something she couldn't pick up on. She got up and out of the bed and stretched her legs, raising her hindquarters and letting out a low hiss of relief. Outside she could hear people talking, as well as a low thumping rhythm that came and went at fast, unpredictable times. It must have been late morning.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

Ryder stirred, but again, didn't wake. It might have been more appropriate if he answered, given that she is… well, you know, but she clutched the doorknob (very small in her grip) and twisted it open. Only a small sliver so she could peep out and see who was outside.

"Hello?"

There, a little old lady stood with her lips curled upwards, making cute little dimples. She was holding a blanket in her palms.

"Hello." It was barely a whisper, but Grace heard true. "How was your slumber?"

"Fine, Bath, thank you. Ryder's still sleeping."

"Oh!" Bath was speaking so low now. So calm. "No matter, I have a gift for you both, uh, what was your name, sweetie?"

"Grace."

"Grace! Lovely little name… suits you. Anywho, take this."

She handed the blanket (dark brown and silky smooth) through the door and into Grace's hand. Grace eyed the blanket and unrolled it – it was a lot bigger than she thought it was, inside it was a small roll of thin white bandages and little blue bottle. "What is this?"

"I'm so sorry dear, but don't take this the wrong way. People… complain, about your… unique, appearance. It should be enough to cover you, dear. The other items are for your friends eye, it looks a little dirty… okay, _very_ dirty – infected, almost."

Grace scowled. Not at Bath, but at whoever complained about her 'appearance'.

Bath saw this and let her calm voice slip – it could be heard on the second word. "Oh, I'll leave you two to it…"

Bath closed the door. Grace heard her little footfalls soon fade away. Grace put the bottle and cloth aside and with both her hands she spread the brown blanket with a great _whoosh!_ and put it over herself. She could see outside of her new cloak almost perfectly. She would have to get Ryder to see if it looked 'presentable'.

 _Presentable,_ she thought, _I'd like to show them what presentable looks like._

She tossed the blanket off and sat on the foot of the bed. If she had to walk around with _that_ thing on, then Vegas didn't feel as pleasing as Ryder had told it was.

She had disturbed the bed enough to almost withdraw Ryder's feet from the covers. This was another part of him that seemed odd to her, and she lifted the sheet away from Ryder's legs. The nails weren't large, like hers, and he had five digits sticking out of his feet rather than three – one tiny, one large, three mediums in between.

She poked his feet with her fingers, taking care with the claws. Fleshy. Delicate skin that looked just about ready to tear should the slightest sharpest edge cut it. Very gently, she stroked from the toes to the ankle with three fingers.

She had probably the best damn sleep in her whole life. She wondered if it was the bed as she keeps caressing with her fingers. Her thoughts drift back to that night, about that song. Something about it didn't seem content to sit back in her memory. Was it the way he did it? Surely it had nothing to do with her, right?

Right. It was just a thing he had done in order to keep them out of the streets. It didn't _mean_ anything. And neither did sleeping with him. And this odd feeling? Something she had felt when she witnessed his reaction to her agreeing to Dalon's proposal? Did that mean anything?

 _We're different, obviously. Does he think the same?_

"I didn't know you gave foot massages."

Her sunlit eyes met his cloudy one. There he was, leant up and smiling and she failed to notice this during her musing. It brought her peace to see his lips curl. "Do you want me to stop?"

He had a few tats in his hands, he swallowed them and asked another question. He didn't need to answer hers. "What did Bath want?"

"She gave me a disguise," Grace said disgustedly. "And some things for your eye. Apparently its bad."

She nodded to the table where the little bottle lay. Ryder frowned. "I think I'm alright."

Grace leant over the bed and grabbed the items. "I don't think so."

Ryder sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He looked a bit frightened but he reserved it. "Doesn't sound like I have a choice."

"You don't."

"Alright. Here goes."

Slowly, Ryder unravelled the old dirty cloth that hung around his head. His hands were delicate, as if one wrong move could cause more harm than good. No more than half a meter away, Grace watched, entranced, when his socket was finally revealed to her. He put the cloth aside and inclined his head so he could see her. "How's it look? Am I still pretty?"

She paused before answering. "It's like the mouth of a cave; a bloody one" she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Are my modelling days over, do you think?" But when she asked him what he meant, he waved a dismissive hand: _Just another human joke._

He asked for the bottle and she handed it to him with a question. "What are you going to do?"

He ripped off a small portion of the new bandages and dipped the liquid in the bottle onto it. "Cleaning," he said. "If it's that bad, I should've asked Mitchell for some of this sooner."

"Will it hurt?"

"Very."

Ryder, with a look of pure dread, lifted the damp cloth to his eye painfully slowly. And the moment it makes contact… He burst out with words of pure blasphemy, even making Grace jump slightly. Ryder hands the cleaning cloth over to her. "Can you do it for me? We'll be here all day if I do it."

She takes it. "What do I do?"

"Just wipe it here-" _The eye._ "-until it looks better. Oh, and don't cut me, please."

She held it rather awkwardly to angle her claws away, but once she did, she repeated the gesture Ryder tried to do. When she touched the eye with the thing, he squirmed and snarled, but begged her to keep going and she did.

To try and take his mind off of this, she decides to ponder, "Ryder, did you know you would be on that stage last night?"

He went to raise an eyebrow but shrunk when he did. "Nope."

"You shouldn't have come here then. You could have spent your money for nothing and we would have gotten nowhere."

She wasn't entirely surprised by his answer. "I shouldn't do a lot of things. But I guess we got lucky."

 _Luck._ Yes. She wiped away a drying blotch of crimson. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Hmm. A very long time ago, it was… Far from here… it'll take too long to tell you. Maybe another day."

She glances at him for what he could take as slyness. "Can you teach me?"

Ryder tried to not look so surprised at this. She had quoted his past and should sympathise with her lust for knowledge. After all, she did have that cute little voice…

"Forget I said anything." She suddenly says, her rhythmic wiping suddenly off balance. "I was just curious."

He looks right into her campfire eyes and rests a hand on her closest knee. "No! No… I can do that, we can be the duet of Freeside! Though we'd have to think of a name… I-If that's what you want."

Grace gave a shy smile. "I'd like that."

She continues with her cleaning of his eyeless socket. Already it looked a lot better. This silence went on for a minute, but Ryder was staring at her and she fixed on him and asked, "What is it?"

"I just noticed," he said. "That your horns are curling backwards."

It reminded Ryder of a Deathclaw alpha female. Already she looked similar to what her mother used to look like. She was about a foot or so taller than him now, (and that was just sitting) it was a wonder she could fit through doors still. Unconsciously, he did the same motion as he had done when she was little, and scratched the scales were the base of the horn met her head. She didn't do that purr, but she did smile warmly. It was at that moment they felt there most comfortable in forever. Hell, even Ryder forgot his socket was burning like wildfire. And Grace's thoughts about death seemed ever so distant.

They enjoyed that moment for a while, before Grace commented that his eye looked much better. He thanked her and wrapped it up with the fresh bandages. They stood up and Ryder's feet nearly tripped on a large brown blanket.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up. Grace took it and pulled it over herself.

"My disguise." she replied, all that sweetness seeming to die in that answer. "How do I look?"

"Well… like a really big monk."

She flicked him with her tail, which came out and went back under her cloak so fast it was simply a blur. "Your calling me fat, aren't you?"

He shook his head and unrolled his sleeve, which must have rolled up in his sleep, he supposed. He was going to ask her if she felt uncomfortable wearing that, but didn't want to sound like an ass. Besides, he would feel the same, wouldn't he?

He would try and make her feel as comfortable as possible, here, in Freeside, and Vegas, should they ever get in.

He _had_ to.

 **7**

And as much as he tried, she would never truly feel comfortable, but it helped, and she was glad for it.

He taught her the 'fine art of her voice' and she caught on – unsurprisingly – quickly. Before the week ended, she performed an old pre-war song called 'Amazing Grace' (which Ryder found amusing after thinking about it) flawlessly. The money was no longer an issue. And the duet need not worry about the gatekeeper no longer, because they were well known throughout most of the Freeside clubs.

Ryder insisted that they make a name for their little duet. He threw suggestions at her: Graceatron, Lizardica, Letters From Grace and Ryder, even Grace Wonder, but she didn't really like any of them.

"The New York Strippers?" he suggested, as an off thought, of course.

"No."

"The New York Revival?"

"Do we really need a name?"

"Well, yeah. How're we going to identify ourselves to everyone?"

"Well, we are two different beings together, so how about… Unity?"

"Unity? Not bad… what about Death and Claw's?"

She didn't really like that either. So they went with Unity for now. They performed Amazing Grace a few more times, all the while Grace wore that monk attire. But this didn't affect how she sounded, and the people loved her. When they approached her for autographs and such, her unusual size didn't seem to be on their minds. Even when she slipped her deathly hands out of her robe to take a pen and paper, they seemed to dismiss it altogether.

Now – after a week – loaded up with the right amount of cash on hand (bags of it in Grace's knapsack, a lot more on Ryder) they walked up the main street to the gate – it didn't need to be seen to know there postures where straighter, and they seemed a lot more content in each other's company.

The gatekeeper greeted them with the stock welcome (Credit check, please!) and Ryder once again said Howdy from Victor. The smiling cowboy came to the screen and raised its arms in greeting for a double handshake.

"Hey there friends! You got the funds to pass into the diamond flush that is Vegas?"

Ryder nor Grace shook those metal hands. "Sure do," Ryder said, taking one pouch of money out after the other. Grace did the same, and they counted the amount and put them into Victors hands – it took a while, yes, but eventually…

"… Nine hundred, and ninety nine. There, can we go in now, Vic?" said Ryder, standing up, his guns clanked together as he did. Grace clicked her bag closed as well. Victor rotated left and right – robot equivalent of a shaking head.

"Sorry partner, discounts off. Your one cap short."

" _You're stupid robot ass said we_ -"

Victor cut Grace off before she could continue, it turned to her and said, "Big Boss don't want your kind polluting our fair city. Do I have to remind you that the exception can be taken away at any moment?"

Grace hissed, saying nothing.

"I'm glad to see you got a robe, friend, but you must behave yourself or else you'll be out here, banned!" Victor sounded like he was pleading. "So behave."

For a moment Ryder thought she would tear Victors smug little TV right off the chassis, but she simply shook her concealed head and waved Ryder on to continue. Ryder wanted to complain, but it was just one cap and a broken promise – they couldn't compromise themselves while they were so close.

He handed a cap over. Victor took it and put it with the rest of the money in a small drop box off to the side. "Follow me." he ordered, and moved to the gate. A tight ball formed in Ryder's chest again – this one filled with excitement and uncontrollable urges to run ahead – he was here! Finally! After so long of staring at the tops of Vegas' buildings, he was about to go _in_ them! What would it be like? _Amazing_ , was the answer, and _amazing_ it was.

"Friends!" Victor declared, opening the gate (very loud, on rusty hinges it cried in protest). He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture when he turned back to them. "Welcome to Vegas!"


	19. Chapter 19: Was it Worth it?

**Was it Worth it?**

 **1**

Look how brilliant it is here!

Freeside was shadowless and dull, and although the duo had given a bit of life to it, Freeside was _nothing_ compared to Vegas. Since entering through the gate the sky became sharper and cloudless blue. The air is snug. The wind whining through the eaves of the jam-packed buildings and through the great walls is autumnal and introspective. Freeside was like a hazy nightmare compared to Vegas, which was at first almost too bright to look at. It was like stepping through a gate into a new world.

And look at that! Down the main street that is 'The Strip' is a huge pack of men and women, dancing some jig out of an old music-playing machine called a See-dee player! The women wore dresses and the men wore suits and fedora's – classy! Securitron and human alike walk to and fro the dominating casino's (Our little Sierra Madre's) laughing and walking and talking and smiling. Everything's shadow is crisp; like they may have been cut from black felt.

Around and about The Strip were dwarf palm trees and plants Ryder hadn't seen in his whole life ever. There were other lush green plants that ringed around big fountains dribbling fresh water in every corner he could see. Grass! Fresh green grass! Before he knew it, he had hunkered and put a hand down to brush it between his fingers.

 _Real?_

It _felt_ real. He let out a breath of air he didn't notice he was holding in.

Music blared into his ears. Instruments of any and all. Upbeat and funky and fun and catchy, all of it. The walls kept all this purity out from the dead worlds clutches, the music, the looks – everything.

 _I could definitely get used to this_.

"Green…" Grace murmured, crouching next to him. They got odd looks from passer by's, but that was the least on their minds right now.

"You fellers best head up to the Lucky 38. Big Boss is waitin'."

Victor, who had shrunk his chassis a few inches lower to whisper to them, said this in a slightly different and deeper voice. But neither of the two gave this much thought.

The Lucky 38 is an old relic of Vegas' past. To the man and Deathclaw, it was the very definition of luxury, refinement, and of course, class. At night, white and gold neon lights spiralled up the thin neck of the great tower. The roulette table that sat up there – so high their necks hurt – slowly spun about clockwise. The windows (or number pockets, all 38 of them) were lifeless, but soon, they'd find themselves looking out of them…

Several wide fat steps lead up to the doors of the Lucky 38. Above it was the towers blinding sign that pulsed away in flashing red and white letters and numbers. The doors were decorated with diamond shapes that were outlined with _more_ neon wires that were currently off. With a great heave Victor slid the door open and motioned for them to enter.

They did so without a look back, which was, in their shared opinion, not quite as hard as it should have been.

 **2**

" _If_ I _couldn't get into that, then you couldn't either, boy, so come on, let's go."_

 _He stares up at the speaker for a moment longer, confused, lost, helpless. He asks, "Are you going to leave ma' here?"_

" _She doesn't know anything better, so yes,_ we _are."_

" _But… But she needs us, we-we can't just leave! Why are you doing this?"_

" _I won't let what our whole family worked for die here. You probably don't understand, do you boy? You were never the cream of the crop. It's always shoot first and ask questions later, isn't it? So why the change of heart? Can't you see the bigger picture?"_

" _I do!"_

" _Lying to your dad won't get you anywhere, boy. I'm not asking you. Let's… go."_

" _I don't want to."_

" _I don't care. We didn't come all this way – we didn't lose all our family – just to sit here and argue, boy. I don't have time to listen to your moping. If you want my blessing – to follow in the footsteps of your relatives – you'll obey me, and we will walk north. To Salvation."_

" _I… I don't…"_

" _You know you do, boy."_

 _He hesitated. He stalled, he paused, he delayed. But the temper of the father had run short._

" _So that's it then?" the man in the duster asked. "You and her are going to stay? In this…_ fucking _waste?"_

 _He struck his son hard with the back of his hand on the second last word. Snot dribbled out, along with a bit of blood. The boy wiped it away with a hand. Jewels mooed softly at this: Jewels was a Brahmin, one of the oldest survivor's of Vee's Knee's._

" _Have it your way, boy. Your good for nothing anyway. I'll show you and your mother how to get things done. Just you wait!"_

"… _Please, don't… don't go."_

 _But the man with the duster didn't even look back as he tugged Jewels along._

 _And off north went the man who created him. Who had birthed him into this terrible world, and had left him here, in the Mojave, lonelier than ever._

 _The boy walked back, to mother, who had left there trail some time ago, near Eastside, so that's where he went. And as he passed into Eastside – walking by a group of men gathered around a hatch that was labelled The Thorn, he was stopped by a red-haired woman whose body seemed to good to be true._

" _Stop there," she said, voice of an angel. "Who are you?"_

 _The boy did not reply and tried to walk away. She stopped him again._

" _Ease up," she said, hand on his shoulder. "I'm Red Lucy, and I think I have a job for you…"_

 _This time he didn't try and walk away._

 **3**

"-the Boss, all right?"

"Very well." Grace said.

Victor then turned to Ryder. "All right?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah all right."

He hadn't noticed, but they were stood before a cramped elevator, and Grace had already stepped into it and she and Victor were looking at him expectantly. He stepped in and the doors closed. And a rising sensation lifted them both up the great tower that was the Lucky 38.

Victor had not joined them, and had not told them what to expect. Well, at least Ryder didn't know, he had an odd blackout and an unusual headache. Grace saw his discomfort and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," he said. "Just… I'm a bit nervous being here, it's exciting, isn't it?"

She gave a meek little huff, "Eh." and he would later regret chuckling at that moment.

"It's like…" But before he could finish, the lift doors opened and silently presented them into a grand living room with furniture coloured in all the rainbow's wonders. Curtains concealed the side walls, the back wall being a glassy open expanse. It would have been a breathtaking view, had not a large monitor blocked it away.

On the monitor was a well dressed photo of a posh man with short combed hair and a neat moustache (One eyebrow raised in that sort of 'were you done talking?' kind of way) Two Securitron's stood guard on either side – cop faces scowling – but did nothing when the duo approached and stood a few feet away from the face of the most powerful man in the Mojave.

"What do you make of what you see?" asked the polite voice of the screen. Grace and Ryder didn't respond at first, but after a pause Ryder did.

"It's… like nothing I've ever seen before."

"Of course you haven't." the voice replied proudly. "Vegas is one of a kind – always has been."

Ryder imagined the voice's head turning to Grace. "And you? What do you think about this place?"

She replied quickly. "I prefer the wasteland."

"Tsk. You're not going to ramble on about the virtues of the wastes, are you?-"

 _(Now he imagined there was a stick up this voice's ass)_

"-It is a desert. Where humans… and animals… fight over radioactive pits in the mud. Aptly named, isn't it? Because that's what you'd be out there: wasted. But here your talents can be put to use. And given your 'unique' personality, this is not an opportunity to pass up."

"You know what she is then?" Ryder asked.

"Of course, don't play me the fool. It's my job to know what happens everywhere and anywhere. Haven't you heard of me before today?"

"No."

"All the more better, then. Shall we get down to business?"

"But why us? I'm just a… a nobody. And she's a, well, you know…"

"Oh don't be coy. You two have been playing the high stakes game ever since Victor dug you out of that grave in Goodsprings. Earlier still when I heard rumours of a 'Deathclaw whisperer' wandering the western branches of the Mojave, doing mail work."

Rumours can be dangerous if the wrong people believed in them. Déjà vu, maybe?

"I think we should be leaving."

It was Grace who had said this. But before Ryder could say anything the voice had beat him too it. A little bit of venom seeped into the tone, giving Ryder the shivers. "You are the first people to step into the Lucky 38 for two hundred years. And _you_ , Deathclaw, are the first _animal_ in millennia. It's not an invitation I pass out lightly."

Ryder: "Grace, we-"

"WE have a serious matter to discuss about a contact you have yet to fulfil." the voice spat. Ryder saw that the Securitron's around them seemed a little bit closer than before. There was no telling what kind of armament they were carrying.

Ryder caught her eyes and begged with his own for her to hush. She did so, though not lightly. "Go on, Sir." Ryder said.

"Sir? Hm! I am Mr. House, though you are welcome to call me Sir if you please. But no matter, here is the business: An item of extraordinary value has been stolen from me, I want it recovered. Simple enough?"

"What's the item?" he asked.

"Are you serious? Well, maybe a refresher from your little trips is indeed in order. Benny stole the platinum chip from your last delivery. Get it back, and deal with Benny in whatever way you see fit. Oh, and I'll pay you, say, all of your entry money if you do this."

Ryder nodded at the offer. "We can do that. Where's Benny?"

"Head on down to The Tops casino near the end of The Strip. His room is on the thirteenth floor, a real heavy-duty lock, but that shouldn't be a problem for you, Ryder, am I right?"

"How do you… never mind. We'll head down right away."

"Not so fast." Mr. House interjected. "You can't go waltzing in there looking like a bunch of barbarians. No, you'll need to blend in. Well, one of you at least. Take the elevator down to the floor labelled H.R. I have arranged some possessions for you. Run along now."

They ran along then. Back into the lift and Ryder hit the button with H.R. on it. House's face watched them until the doors blocked his view. As the lift descended, Grace breathed in relief. "I felt so cold in that room. I don't like this one bit."

"Grace, this is what we need! The owner of Vegas can help us deal with Seth and Bessie like it was nothing! Why're you trying to turn him away?"

"Are you that stupid?" she spat. "He's been watching us the entire time out there, and now he wants _us_ to do his dirty work. You don't seriously believe he will help us do you?"

Ryder, taken back by that comment, ( _Stupid, am I?_ he thought) wouldn't let up so easily. "It's the best chance we got. Maybe he'll lend a few Securitron's to help us out."

"Or, he'll use us until he no longer needs us, then throw us back into Freeside."

"And since when have you been the best one to judge? You haven't even seen his face."

"Exactly! Why would he hide behind his machines?"

"Maybe he's just… I don't know, being careful?"

"Maybe so he can hide his smile, because he knows he's got you by the throat."

Ryder bit his lower lip. "No one controls me, Grace. You need to-" The lift doors opened.

Dark red walls, black carpet, countless rooms, paintings, chandeliers – all this presented to them as soon as they entered. The lobby made Ryder gawk and forget what he was talking about. He looked around and came to his own conclusion on what H.R. meant:

High Roller.

There was a desk made from pristine oak. No, not oak, something else, something much more appropriate for the Lucky 38. Mahogany. Lovely. On top of its surface were the gifts House had told them about.

There was a suit – snowy white, with neat little black buttons and cuffs. All folded up with a matching pair of pants.

Beside it?

Five boxes of Mentats.

Grace scoffed at this. Clearly troubled by the fact that there was so much left for them. About enough for _two_ people.

Did House know she could talk due to these things?

Did he know about Home?

How much _did_ he know? She was right to be scared, but Ryder – old oblivious Ryder – was so caught up in all this that he failed to notice.

Ryder peeked into one of the many doors leading to all the branches of the suite. She saw him smile broadly at whatever was inside, and started putting his weapons on the table.

"Ryder…"

"…"

"Ryder!"

"What?"

"Look!"

"What about it? Mentats, I know."

"House knows how I can speak!"

"It's probably just for me, Grace. Don't worry about it."

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to how much House knows? What if he followed us to Home? What if… he sent Seth to us?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't invite us into his home if he wanted us dead." Ryder gave her a cunning glance. "I remember learning how curiosity almost got me killed. Maybe you should leave it alone."

"So that's it? You're just going to ignore me? Ignore all this?"

"I'm not ignoring you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Then what _does_ it feel like?"

"Like you're doing it on purpose."

"Well maybe I am, all right? That what you want to hear? I lived most of my life by a fire. Sleeping in the gutters, hell, even BORN in the gutters, wasn't I? So forgive me if I don't want to live like that for even a day. Maybe with a roof over my head and in a warm bed. Not lying on the ground like a-"

"Like an animal?" Grace suggested sourly.

"Yes! You can't expect me to live like you."

"Well, you can't expect me to live like a human!"

"You don't have to stay! No one is stopping you!"

To this, there was silence. Usually her face was readable, even minutely at the worst of times, but now it was blank. And rather than stand here and stare her down, Ryder entered the room he was stood in the doorway of and closed it shut behind him.

Grace clutched her horns in frustration, and punched a nearby wall. It hurt like shit and the wall didn't break.

Ryder ignored the bang.

 **4**

The room inside was split in half. Half wood, half marble tiles. The tiled section held a giant aluminium contraption built into the corner of the room. A showerhead gleamed above a white washed tub in its centre, a bit higher than he was.

He stripped off his armour – was that smell _him_? Poo-wee! – all the way and tossed it all in a great big clunking pile off to the side, and stepped into the tub and put the showerhead above his dome. There were two dials underneath it, he turned the red one all the way, and was graced with water that brought a smile to his anticipating face.

It was first a trickle, then a slow fall, then a downright pour of amazingly hot water. It soaked down his tired face, his shoulders, his scarred chest, the feeling made him simply stand there for a minute or two (or ten).

Fog surrounded him, he looked about for something to clean himself with, and soon laid eyes upon a little bar of whitish-yellow something.

He had not had a shower in well over many years – mostly resorting to rivers and lakes and even the ocean at one point – the one time being in… was it the Capital Wasteland? He was pretty sure it was, in some tower by the name of Tenpenny or something. There were four bars lying about the shower, and he had used half of them without a moments consideration if he should conserve them.

He watched all the grime disappear down the drain between his feet. He wondered where it would go. Would it be recycled? Or was Vegas in great supply of this stuff?

No matter. He stayed in there for maybe half an hour before stepping out – this wasn't just because he enjoyed it, mind you. He grabbed up one of the many fluffy towels hanging on a rack nearby and started working himself down – singing a soft tune he knew well.

In the wood section of the room, it had gone incredibly hot and steamy. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went into it. Immediately, sweat dripped off his face, it first felt weird, then refreshing. Maybe some auto-system had put the heat on in here whilst he washed?

Again, it didn't matter. He sat up on one of the wooden benches in the boiling room. He breathed evenly. But despite the heat, he wanted to stay in it. It just felt lightening whilst he did so, as if some horrible thing had been growing in him, and it was being sweated out.

He couldn't believe himself. Grace was looking out for him and he blew up about it. He admitted it was strange, how house had known of his addiction he couldn't tell, but what was that worth compared to this hot but great feeling of the High Roller suite?

Here he was. Near the top of the Lucky 38 casino. First visitor in how long? Did House say two hundred years? Quite a feat for a kid with nothing but the guns on his back and a Deathclaw by his side.

He remembered Grace asking about his parents. About where they were and why he wasn't with them. In truth he just felt uncomfortable around ma', like she was just… someone else entirely the last time he was with her. And how long ago was that? Couldn't have been much long before he wiped out the quarry, so months?

What would they say if they saw him now? Not only _in_ Vegas but-

 _(being used)_

-working with Mr. House, the man himself? They certainly never thought he'd be in here, neither of them, he was sure. So 'Ha!' to them, right?

… Maybe he should go talk to them. But was _he_ a bad person for not wanting to? Was _he_ the bad guy for wanting to keep as much distance between them as possible?

Maybe it was better if he didn't think about it.

What felt like a few minutes later of silence, the door creaked open and Grace was stood there in the doorway. He looked up at her and got rid of his frown he had been slowly making on his lonesome.

"… Uh, hey, Grace."

"… Hi."

Silence. Grace noticed the ghostly steam leaving the room and shut the door behind her. She took a breath in and looked like she had been punched in the face. "Fuck its hot in here."

She looked him over a few times, inquiring with only her eyes as to how he can stand it.

"Took a shower," he said. "Heat's great, believe it or not."

"Shower?"

He nodded to said contraption. She walked over to it and fiddled with the showerhead and dials. He was about to tell her how it worked, when she figured it out on her own. He looked away in respect and simply sat there.

"Ryder?"

"Yes?"

"What is this?"

He didn't turn his head. "What's it look like?

"See for yourself."

"Your… in the shower, so…"

"Ryder, I don't even wear clothes."

"… Good point." And he looked at her. She was holding up two little objects. "Soap, makes you smell nice."

"… Huh."

She turned and rubbed it over herself, getting into a smooth rhythm . She adjusted her stance so her long tail was washed over. Her front had turned to him and she locked onto his eyes. Ryder then realised he had been staring and quickly found his feet as an interesting distraction.

"No need, Ryder." She crooned. "You've slept with me, surely looking wouldn't hurt?"

"Well…"

"How many girls have you seen showering?"

"Including you? Exactly… one."

"Hm." she said in a satisfied way, and turned around. A few minutes later she walked over to him with a towel around her waist. He found it funny, the way she looked, and smiled and patted the spot next to him. She obliged and sat, crossing one leg over a knee.

"I'm… I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I-I don't see you as just an animal."

She looked at him with reserved scrutiny. How many thoughts were racing inside that head? He didn't have to wait too long to get an answer from her.

"Then what _do_ you see me as?"

Ryder paused, thinking as hard as his Mentat-induced mind could. "Someone with emotions. Someone with feelings. A person – with, uh-"

"With claws?"

"-yeah, with claws. Someone I should trust."

She smiled. "I trust you too. But… it might not matter. Even if we don't come back, House will find us."

"Yeah, but maybe we can find someone on The Strip who can help."

"Who? All the humans look like snobs."

"We'll be right. We always are."

She picked at her towel with her fingers and looked down at Ryder's chest. There were scars that lapped and dented his upper body: the red bucker of a heavy knife slash on one lean bicep, the weal of a burn on another, white and pink cut marks that crisscrossed over his chest, dimples that could only be bullet-holes. Then, of course, the missing finger and eye, but his stomach (which split into six small sections, giving him a unique look that no other human she had seen has) was what intrigued her the most.

"What are these?" she asked, indicating to the great marks there.

"Scars."

"I know that," she huffed. "What gave them to you?"

He pointed at one. "Mirelurk." And another. "Cazador." And another. "Deathclaw…. and this burn? Big Fire Gecko."

"Where did you get them?"

"Most of it was a bit before I went to the qu… when I was _chased_ into the quarry."

She nodded, they sat in each other's company for a few more minutes until Grace said, "This heat is unbearable."

"Yeah, let's get out."

They did so, and out in the lobby near the opened elevator was Victor. "Howdy ya'll! Enjoy your little sauna experience together?"

Ryder flushed and looked away. Grace nodded.

"Great! Boss said to clean your armour up for later, so I'll do that while you two run along to The Tops and get that snake Benny!"

"Th-Thanks, Vic," Ryder said and took his new suit into a bundle and moved into a living room while Vic went into the 'sauna' for Ryder's armour. Grace followed him, and when he was about to undo his towel he spied her and looked down at himself. "Can I get some privacy, please?"

"Are you hiding a little something from me?" She smiled.

"Well, no… I mean, yeah! I mean…"

"All right, I'll be in the next room." She snickered and left the room, but peeped around the doorway to see if he was still watching. Unfortunately he was.

"I can see you!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going…"

 **5**

He in his suit, her in her monkish robe. Together they set foot into The Tops.

"Hey hey, babies!" called the man behind the greeting desk. "Welcome, welcome! I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over all your weapons and be patted down – security measures, you know what I mean."

"Of course," Ryder said coolly, and stepped forward. A guard patted him down and found – of course – nothing. Ryder smiled and stepped forward.

"And now for you… big guy." said the guard, looking up at Grace, who replied in her most nicest voice: "I have no weapons on me."

"Oh!" said the guard. "My apologise, lady, y-you can go right on in."

"Thanks, sugar." she said, hip checking him and making the guard tumble. The guard flushed and boated to the desk greeter about how he's such a ladies' man.

Two ways to go. One way was a poker table maze filled to the brim with well dressed rich folk. The clink of chips on chips dominated that way, along with cheers of victory and curses of lost bets. The other way were roulette tables and poker machines. The _cha-chings_ and _cha-chows_ of these rolling slots drowned out any other noise. But they passed through swiftly and silently, eventually coming to six elevator doors, only one of which worked.

In it, Ryder hit the button labelled _13_ and they travelled up.

Grace touched his shoulder to get his attention. "What are you going to do to Benny if he's there?"

"… Kill him."

"And if he's not?"

"He will be."

"Don't you want to know why he did what he did?"

"I…" Ryder held his tongue. What was it father had said? Shoot first, questions later? He knew in his heart that Benny deserved no mercy. But maybe…

"Do _you_ think I should let him talk?" Ryder asked.

"I don't know, I'm just suggesting that knowing why might answer a few questions. I don't see you as a murderer."

"You'd be surprised," he said.

She put her claw out and lifted his chin so he looked at her. "It's not too late to change."

 _It is, though, isn't it?_ he thought, thinking about that painful memory of the quarry. But instead he said, "You give someone like me too much faith."

"You're my only friend left," she said, but sounded as if the word 'friend' was wrong. "I don't want to see you as a killer. Like that monster Seth."

He nodded, but the memory… No matter. He put the thought aside. "I guess I could hear him out."

With a _bing_ the elevator opened onto the thirteenth floor. There was a great hall going both ways, with endless doors lining the sides. All of them were tiny and without decoration. A simple mind would've thought going door to door was the only option. But if that mind was jacked on Mentats… the only one that could have possibly been Benny's was the only double door room with plants on the flanks of it.

Grace stood watch while Ryder picked the lock. _Heavy duty my ass_ , he thought, as the doorknob turned after a moment.

"I'll be right out here. Good luck." Grace said, giving a thumb up gesture with one hand.

Ryder entered and closed the doors behind him.

His killer lived quite a luxurious life, it seemed. Big bed, bar, TV and enough furniture to fill all of the abandoned wasteland. It was deadly quiet, except for the tiny clink of two glasses.

The sound came from the bar, where a man wearing a checkered suit sat pouring himself a drink. His hair was combed to a big stylish pile on his head, and a familiar golden and engraved gun sat alone on the bar on his right.

"Yes, yes, put it down on the table and leave." said Benny, not turning but jerking a thumb behind him to a table with two chairs and a half eaten plate of food sitting on it.

"I was hoping to join you." Ryder said.

"What? Who do you think you are? I… What in the goddamn…"

Benny had slowly twisted to face Ryder. He stared heavily into Ryder's eyeless socket, then turned back and drank.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Ryder said, and strode over and sat on the free seat on Benny's right. He put his arms up on the bar and made sure the engraved pistol was in his hand and was angled in the right direction. What was odd was the Benny didn't even go for it. It made this easier, Ryder concluded.

" _You're_ the one who strolled into the Lucky 38?" Benny asked. "Shit. And that Deathclaw? Is it… Is it with you?"

"Yeah."

"Look, I-"

"Shut up." Ryder ordered. "And tell me why you took away half my sight."

Benny looked at him quizzically. "Ha! Tell you why? Isn't it obvious? You're a loose end, baby. If I didn't kill you then, you would've tracked me down simply because you could, wouldn't you? Besides, I though a nine mil to the head would've stopped the hassles."

"Guess you were wrong."

Benny raised the corner of his lip. "Guess I was. And your living proof of my suspicions! How the hell did you get outta there in the first place?"

"Luck. And a robot."

"So House brought you back? I should've expected that, I guess he sent you – his lackey – down to deal with my treacherous behaviour, am I wrong?"

"Your right."

Benny passed a glass to Ryder. "Look kid, I didn't _want_ to kill you. I was more than willing to let those Khans do it, but you know what they're like! I at least gave you the dignity of sitting up, rather than lying facing down in the dirt."

"That makes it better, does it?"

"I never said that! Look, kid-"

"Hand over the chip, and I might let you live."

"Whoa, baby, slow down! You don't even know what this thing is or what it's worth. Maybe you'd like to get in on the action…?"

"No, thank you. Now… give it."

"You lived through a bullet, and you've come far. But you cannot boss me around, kid, I can call for security in a second, I got guards in and out of this room. You don't want to kill me. I can split Vegas with you – fifty fifty, and we forget all this ever happened. Think about it for a sec – you _don't_ want to kill me."

Ryder tilted his head. "Why don't we test that?"

Benny shot his arm straight towards his pistol that had killed Ryder once but would never kill again. He was fast, but Ryder was already pointing his gun at him by the time Benny's finger touched the barrel. One shot tore through a spot above Benny's right eye, spewing a trail of brains out the backside. A second shot went into the socket and sent Benny toppling off his chair and landing face first onto the floor. Blood pooled about his head quickly.

Ryder got up and took one things from Benny's pockets. The platinum chip. It was a delicate thing, and it felt unusually heavy in his hands. As for the engraved gun, it felt unsually heavy in his hand, and was probably made of pure gold. Floral and ivy details gave it a unique look.

Along the bottom of the barrel was the word:

 _Maria_

" _Eighteen carat run of bad luck."_ Was that what Benny had said? Ryder thought so. He felt a strange attachment to the gun, and would decide later to leave it in the High Roller suite, where it would never be used again. He holstered it and then put the platinum chip in his hands.

 _All this killing for this little thing_ , he thought, _at least it looks nice._

It was what it was: a poker chip made of pure platinum. He would later learn of what made this thing so important. He could've asked Benny, but he would never tell him, despite Ryder giving him a chance to hand it over and live, so it was his own fault he got himself killed, right?

Right. Ryder got up and was about to leave when he heard a filtered voice.

"Benny? I heard bullets! You didn't go and shoot yourself, did you?"

It was from the back room. Ryder walked slowly over to the source, gun held in the hollow of his left shoulder.

Benny had built an extension into the back wall, many computers were lying about in an undecorated part of the floor. There was no one inside except for a Securitron, more of a black coat of paint rather than the usual blue. And its little TV screen was of a wide, smiling face –eyes and mouth only – and not a cop.

"Oh, hi! You're not Benny… obviously. Who are you?" asked the robot.

"I'm… Who are _you_?"

"Me? Oh, I'm just an old and modified Securitron that wants to help Benny take over New Vegas, that's all! You can call me Yes Man, or whatever! I don't care!"

"Modified?"

"Yeah! I have to do exactly as I'm told, I can't say no! That's why they call me… _Yes_ Man! Cool name, huh?"

"Ryder?" Grace called, the sound of the doors opening and closing was obvious.

"In here, Grace."

She soon appeared. (She frowned at Benny's corpse) And shot a worried look once she spotted Yes Man. But she calmed once Yes Man put his arms out for greeting and said, "Wow! I've never seen your kind up close before! Grace, is it? Nice to meet you! I'm Yes Man!"

"I'm not a man, Mr. Yes."

"Oh no silly! My name is – quote – Yes Man – end quote!"

"… Oh!" she said, shaking both his hands. "Nice to meet you!"

"No! The pleasure is all mine!"

Grace let go of his/its hands and nodded happily.

"SAY," Yes Man yelled. "Now that Benny is, ahem-" He put his flat fingers into an air quote sign motion. "-'OUT OF THE PICTURE' are you guys here to take the reins? It's okay, you can say no if you want!"

"Take what reins?" asked Grace, fingers on chin.

"Why, the taking over of Vegas of course! All the things everyone wants! Money, Securitron's, supplies… and did I say money?"

Grace and Ryder turned away so Yes Man couldn't listen in. (Even though he was a robot)

"Grace! You know what this means?"

"We can send Home supplies?"

"Yes! _And_ we have Securitron's we can send to the Purifiers! Uh, Yes Man?"

"Hi!"

"How many Securitron's are there?"

"Oh… half a hundred? We can get _a lot_ more if we do a little work around I have planned out!"

Ryder said to Grace, "You want to rule Vegas? Man and Deathclaw and robot?"

"A great trio if I ever heard one!" commented Yes Man.

Grace said, "If it'll get us ahead of Seth, we _must_."

"Forgive me for eavesdropping," Yes Man said. "But if I'm not mistaken, did I hear a yes?"

"… Yes." they said, together.

"Well in that case, my non-robot friends, we have a bunch of work to do!"

 **6**

There was a long, gruelling fight for the Lucky 38, which ended the night after they had collaborated with Yes Man. It wasn't really a tough fight at all, because Mr. House didn't know of Yes Man's existence or his plans on infiltrating the tower without him ever knowing.

When Grace and Ryder fought their way up to the mechanical bay in the very peak of the Lucky 38, they finally met House face to face. Well, it was more like face to leather, for House was well over two hundred years old, and his body looked like an old scrotum. He wore a weird headset that jabbed pipes into almost all of his veins, pumping crap that kept him alive for so long. He was in a little glass pod behind a paper-littered desk. This time, it frightened Ryder to see how much of his life House had on paper, and took no time to burn it all.

"Why?" House had croaked when he was lifted from his pod, his arms curled about his bony waist, which was hidden behind a tiny little diaper of sorts. "Why… are… you doing…. this?"

To which Ryder replied that it was necessary for Yes Man and all the Deathclaws at Home.

"Helping… animals… is a mistake… Fool!"

"You shouldn't have let Grace in then, House."

"Needed… just one… Do it… kill me!"

And Ryder did. Grace, back in the shadows, shook her head at this action but would not comment on it until much, much later.

In that pod was the man who had sent Victor to dig him up from the grave. And Ryder had killed him at the mention of him gaining control of Vegas. Grace was glad for his death, but still, the way Ryder had killed him, was it mercy? She liked to think so, but wasn't a hundred percent sure.

Victor, the friendly yet strange Securitron, also fell in the ensuing battle. _"I wish I'd have left you in the ground to rot!"_ was his last words after a good shot tore his inner workings out – the robot equivalent of brains. Ryder regretted killing him – maybe he should have told him to surrender, but then again who ever heard of a robot that stands down after its master was killed?

Ryder pondered on House's last words. 'Needed just one'? Needed one Deathclaw? For what, he couldn't tell, but maybe he would search all of House's files later to find the answer, because right now Vegas was on his mind. Leaderless Vegas.

Not to worry, said Yes Man, who had invited himself up to House's terminal and told them to watch his transfer into the Lucky 38's system. When Yes Man plugged himself, his chassis blew up. It was quite an exit, said Yes Man. And in House's posh face came Yes Man's, who spoke happy and true and relieved.

"Wow! This is great isn't it? House sure had quite a few plans for Vegas' secured future, I'm sure you both would love to hear it!"

"Home needs help first, right Ryder?"

"Of course, Grace. Yes Man?"

"Right on! The church east of here! House had a bit of data on that!"

Yes Man ordered up a caravan of Securitron's holding supply outside the main Vegas gate. It was there Ryder and Grace stood together, making sure everything was in order.

"Grace," Ryder said. "You think this is enough? Just wanna make sure, in case we can't send out anymore for a while."

"I'm going with them."

"… What?"

"I'm going back to Home."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't."

He thought she might call him dull again, and he wouldn't have blamed her if she did, for what she next said was quite obvious. "I don't belong here, you know that as much as I do."

"But… I remember you saying you hated Home," Ryder snapped. "I thought you wanted to kill Seth. And… And…"

"I do."

"This is our best chance of doing that! Y-You can't just leave, we've got Vegas, and…"

"I know, but Ryder… I'm an animal, you said so yourself. If you-"

"So this is what it's all about? What I said back then? You want me to take it back? Fine. I take it back!"

She stepped closer and shook her head. "I don't belong here. And I don't think _you_ do either." She took his hand into hers. "Come with me."

There was silence. Somewhere distant a crow called out _(Fuuuck-Fuuuuuck)_ and it reminded him of Grace climbing that tree to eat that crow near Goodsprings. He suddenly felt desperate.

"… I need to stay, Grace. If we lose this place, we have no chance of stopping the Purifiers."

"But… you have Home, and…"

"It's not enough." With his free hand he seized her other one. "Please… stay here, with me."

It would not hit him until much later at how selfish he had been. That moment reminded him so much of the Sierra Madre, and was it not almost the exact same? He couldn't let go of Vegas, and he didn't _want_ to either. Grace knew this but wouldn't voice it – instead she said, "I don't want to be separated, Ryder – not again."

"So don't leave!"

"You want me to dress in this robe and sit in a casino all day? Is that what you want?"

"I..."

"You want me to hide? Hide myself so your little utopia isn't scared to death by my filth?"

"You-"

"You want me to change _my_ life to fit yours? You just expect me to go along with it?"

"I… Fine. I-I understand." He takes his hands back and pulls out three Mentats, which he ate quickly. "Go then."

She nodded. "Goodbye." And turned away from him. She had a handful of Securitron's logging supplies behind her, and they all slowly turned and walked down into Freeside. Ryder and Yes Man stood at the gate, watching. That was until…

"Grace!"

Grace turned, she had logged off her robe and had tossed it into the gutter – forgotten.

"Will you come back?"

Her response was something that he feared she would say.

"I don't know."

He faked understanding and nodded.

Grace left.

 _Was it worth it?_ said a little voice in his head, one no different than Grace's own. _You got what you always dreamed of. Was it worth it?_

No it wasn't.

"Don't worry Ryder!" said Yes man from behind him. "You got me! You're not alone in this!"

He should have been used to this. How many others had walked away from him? Countless, of course, and none of them were any different from the last. Yet… this time, it hurt. A Deathclaw had hurt him without even using its claws.

He never felt more alone than now.

Days passed into weeks, and he would watch the gate for her return – day and night.

But she didn't come back.


	20. Chapter 20: Borderworld Players

**Borderworld Players**

 **1**

Seth Hayes had once been a Catholic priest of a town called Mucca, it no longer existed on any map. He didn't care though. It had held him back for most of his life.

He was wearing a suit of great armour, this much we already know. But we will delve deeper into his side of the tale. We will not take long. For he is not the central part of Ryder and Grace's journey, but his part is grand and he _will_ meet his destiny one way or another.

As Ryder and Grace wander Freeside, taking contracts and taking the days off inside the club owned by Gath and Bath, Seth had taken a longer route to detour as far away from Vegas as possible, and while those two were singing along merrily, Seth – with great effort – passed by without so much as a glance at the big city lights.

Ryder had got him good, and this had depressed Seth into a state of pure loathing. Not so much as a scratch had stained this beautiful piece of equipment that was _told_ to be indestructible. Any more shots, and he would've been killed in that church, he did not doubt that conclusion. And that would have been ironic, wouldn't it? Killed in a church, something he _used_ to work in, converting and whatnot. Those days were good. But these days are better.

Well, they _were_ better, until a kid had outgunned his whole team with a bunch of filthy lizards!

Oh boy, would Bessie be pissed. Seth wouldn't be surprised if she or her boss killed him when he returned. One might think _then just don't go back!_ but where was he supposed to go? Everyone out here is a sin in human form, and he didn't have enough napalm to burn them all back to hell.

He crested a dune.

Though Seth would never see nor admit this, but his whole life is full of dead ends. He still lives by God and the priest inside him always lives on, that's why before and after expeditions he likes to pray for the wellbeing of life (with no sense of irony) and asks God to give him strength to do the lords bidding.

The bidding of turning this world back to normal.

The idea of two hundred story buildings and biplanes that carried people across whole continents (he didn't know anything was across the oceans until recently) was so fascinating, that it was his lifelong goal of seeing this world come back from the grave.

But before we can delve too deep into Seth's twisted little mind inside that twisted little dome, he had crested one last dune and was walking towards two runs of fence with a leaning warning sign that read:

 _ **DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE**_

 _ **GOVERNMENT PROPERTY AHEAD, RESTRICTED AREA**_

 _ **TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT**_

Only two things on the red sign were true. There was a hole cut out nearby (it was one of many) and it looked like the work of Radscorpion's (could you believe they used to be only as big as hands?). He ducked into the hole and entered the compound.

There was a thin, dusty road that lead into the central area, on either side of it were two watchtowers and two bunkers. He called out the password and raised a hand in greeting. His response was _not_ being peppered by bullets and lasers.

He passed into the inner compound. All around there were small turrets that noisily rotated there barrels left and right. Men and women in power armour either wandered about or guarded the few surface buildings. Seth somehow knew that behind their little helmets, they were mocking him with either cheeky remarks or silent sneers. When was the last time they were challenged enough to LOSE people, let alone have his armour beaten into a literal pulp?

They should be worried. This was serious. HE was serious. He was the _lieutenant_ , and _no one_ makes him a laughing stock.

"Where's Bessie?" he growled, facing a trio of recruits he wore combat armour, they were making fun of him, no doubt, like a couple of schoolgirls.

One of them jerked a thumb to the building behind him. "She and the Bug Man are waiting for you."

The Bug Man was here?

Shit.

The Bug Man wasn't a literal Bug who is a Man, but THAT would've been preferable compared to who this Bug Man really was. Seth went pale at the name. Bug dude didn't come here often, him and his little flying 'Bertivird' or whatever you call it.

Why would he come now? Right after his first failed mission in well over two or so years? Did he know? Seth thought so. The Bug man knew a lot - had eyes and ears down in the deepest of the wastes. Not even Seth or Bessie's privacy was safe, for the Bug knew what they did in their spare time.

Seth entered the half building, half nuclear shelter structure.

The place was old, not so much ancient, but it had that pre-war feel to it. What this place was used for, no one could tell anymore, because it had been reshaped and refitted for Purity purposes. It felt so claustrophobic to be in this bunker, especially when your stood up in a suit of power armour.

He came up to a heavy door that could be shot at with a nuke and it wouldn't fall. There was a figure in power armour on the side of the door. This one not quite the 'Purifier' variant but very similar. Seth did not know who this was.

"You the Lieutenant?" this guard asked him.

Seth screwed his face up behind his battered helmet. "Who do you think you are? In _my_ home, asking who _I_ am?"

"This isn't your 'home', Lieutenant. You'd do well to remember your place. Boss is inside – don't keep him waiting."

The heavy doors opened and Seth entered through them. Like the drums of death it clanged shut behind him once he did so.

Only two others occupied the office. There was Bessie, a few feet away with her back to him – her helmet was off but her suit was not. She turned and smiled at him. But it was a pleading sign: _lord help us_.

Because standing a few feet _beyond_ her, was another giant hulking figure with two laser rifles crossed over his shoulders. His armour was massive, and if there was a young super mutant underneath all that garb, then Bess' would owe him five bucks.

Easily eight feet tall. Seth had a sneaky suspicion the armour _wasn't_ compensation.

This thing, this Bug Man, (for his helmet resembled one, and his body could be a ladybug with limbs) sounded so rotten, that even the filtering of his helmet couldn't hold back Seth from cringing.

"Seth! I'm glad you could make it. Your lovely sister was just telling me you were wiping a handful of Deathclaws off the earth!"

"W-Well, yeah, we picked up a signal and tapped into the-"

"Stop."

Seth stopped speaking. The Bug Man approached him. Seth was glad his helmet was still on, for a bead of sweat dripped over his left eye.

"Do you know how much a suit costs, _priest_?" The Bug Man snapped. Jerking a finger at Seth's chest plate, which had many bullet marks on it.

Seth gulped, it was loud. For a moment he wanted to lie, but then figured he would truly be punished if he did. So he said, "No."

"It's worth more than your pitiful life. It's worth dying for. It shouldn't have to go through so much to protect a damnation of life like you, _Seth_. Do I need to go on?"

"No."

The Bug Man gave a tittery laugh the made Seth's flesh creep. _Laughs like a dead person_ , he thought.

"Come, now," the monster in front of Seth said, somehow seeing the distraught through their helmets. "We're all friends here. Why, we are absolutely palsy-walsy. We will speak of many things – who did this to you, where your team is, and if you completed your mission or not."

Once more the Bug Man tittered again. It was like the sound of wind drifting through barred windows of an asylum. The Bug Man put an arm around Seth's _and_ Bessie's shoulder's and lead them to the far wall where a window was.

Seth did not want to offend this man, but he couldn't bear the touch of that arm. It was simply unbearable for some reason, even though they had thick armour separating their skins. He shrugged it off once they reached the window.

Instead of being offended, the Bug Man tittered again and released Bessie. "Look."

They obeyed his order and looked out the window.

"Good boy. And good girl." said the Bug Man. "Now, my little redheaded friend, you will tell me everything that you did between leaving _my_ base and coming back. I would not have you leave out a single jot."

Seth took a breath. "There were ten of us. We tapped into a signal near-"

"Were you all wearing my armour?"

"… Yes, Sir."

"Go on, but I do not care how you found them. You can leave that jot out."

"Well, when we arrived. There were maybe… fifty Deathclaws. But more than half of them were pure black, and they had these great, scary red eyes. And they attacked the normal looking ones as well as us."

"Hm," said the Bug Man. "And how, pray tell, did you get bullet wounds against animals? Don't lie to me."

"They had… humans, with them. Three to be exact, although one ran off." Seth waited for a question but no one asked, so he continued. "These… stranger Deathclaws, they were like literal shadows to my eyes, they killed a few of us and we had to pull back. We waited for Ryder and his buddies to deal with them and we moved in to clean the rest up."

"So where is the rest of your team?" asked the Bug Man.

"… Dead. B-But we burnt their home down and-"

"And lost nine good suits in the process, correct?"

"… Correct."

"And your weapons, too?"

Seth nodded.

"Who is this 'Ryder' you mentioned?"

"Just some kid, a nobody, we don't think he's anything but."

"Ah," the hulking man said. Seth imagined him smiling behind that mask. "Your right about one thing. You don't think. That's what I hate about you muties. You don't think! Do you think a 'kid' could wipe out your best men? No! This isn't some kid you're dealing with."

Seth didn't take his eyes off the window. What he saw made him cringe, but he didn't dare look away.

"I want him dead." The Bug Man ordered.

"Of course," replied Seth. "I'll get a team and-"

"Oh, not you," Bug Man shook his head. "No, you failed me once, you won't again."

"But Sir!"

"Excuse me, Seth?" The distance between their heads closed until a mere inch. "Are you defying my word? After all I've done for you and your little bro-sis relationship? Remember, I _own_ you both. You were nothing but a freak who passed the days with little boys in your cellar when I first found you, Seth. You promised my word was law. Have you changed your mind?"

"I… No, no I haven't, Sir."

"Believe me, Seth, before the war we would've hunted priests like you down like you were rats. I don't like it when people forget their _place_. Understand?"

Seth nodded.

The beast of a man tittered. "Glad we straightened that out. Bessie?"

"… Y-Yes?" She had been silent this whole time Seth forgot she was there at all.

"You will come with me. It's time we move onto House. We will rid ourselves of this, 'Ryder', fellow, unless he'd like to pay for nine X-01 suits in cash! But you, Seth, you'll be going north."

"Why? I-I mean, of course."

Again, that deathly rotten laugh. "One of our bunkers has been infected. You'll blow it up from the inside. If you dare search for intel on my people, we're going to have a _real_ big problem. Understand?"

The Bug Man needed no response. Seth wouldn't do that and he knew this well. Seth was a pup.

"My man outside will tell you the finer details," the Bug Man said. "Run along!"

Seth, like a puppy, did as he was bid. He was glad to be far away from the Bug Man as possible.

 **2**

Corporal Ava was the odd one of the bunch.

There was always one who had to suit that role. She would ask herself day and night on why it had to be her. She would love to just throw herself out to everyone and be read like a book. But there was just too many mental barriers holding that back from happening.

Ava was hard-headed. She prided herself on being hard-headed, and had nothing even slightly spiritual on her mind as she walked at the second front row with her leader – Seth, a _real_ charmer that one… not! – and a handful of squad mates behind her. She did not believe in God, hell, angels or demons. It was just all a big pile of baloney.

But, in about say a few hours, she would believe in that last one: _demons_. And, in particular, the Devil himself.

"Seth?" she asked. She had earned her suit of power armour a while back, and her filtered voice to her own ears sounded oddly satisfying.

Seth, in his beaten but somewhat repaired suit, looked at her over his shoulder. "Corporal?"

"Remind me why I have to carry the bomb."

"Questioning your superiors again, Ava?"

"I never asked a question, Sir."

"Smartass. Did you forget the first thing you learn when becoming a Purifier?"

"'No cost is too great'. That's they fancy way of saying-"

"I know the fancy way, Corporal." Seth interrupted. " _You_ came to _us_ , remember? We are your family now. How many times must I tell you?"

"Your all heart, Seth."

"I know. Now shut up. We are here."

Half a bunker peeped out of the ground before them. They were quite a ways north-north east of the Mojave and had travelled on foot for most of the day. Had there suits not compensated a lot of energy, they would have had to camp out near the 'superiors' abandoned bunker. Including Seth and her right hand – Ava – there were seven of them in total. Ava knew a few of their names, but she had kept distance between making friends. They probably didn't even know _her_ name, these killers. So what was the point?

They gathered around in a tight circle and hunkered by the big bunker doors.

"Do I need to remind anyone of what we are doing here?" asked Seth, gazing at them all. Almost all of them except for Ava fidgeted under his look.

No one responded.

"Good," Seth said. "Keep it tight and form up around the corporal here. She's our priority until the bomb is set. Stand clear of vents and don't let them get close."

'Yes, sir." they chanted – some uneasily then others.

"Good. Remember the path back in case you get lost. No one's going in after you if you get left behind. Let's go."

With Seth in the lead, they formed up and entered the bunker. It was dark. Immediately there helmet-mounted torches came to life, thick beams of light bounced off the metallic walls as they searched the darkness for any sign of movement.

Ava scanned a wall. There were posters half torn away and bullet holes dotting in fine arcs across the entire expanse. There was dry red blood that splotched the floor and nearby desks. But no bodies.

"Move." Seth ordered. And move they did.

Ava checked her heavy assault rifle once more as they passed into the corridor beyond. She never really liked flamethrowers or energy weapons. Conventional bullets were… conventional, in her mind.

"I think I just browned myself." said one of the men in the squad. They didn't know how to use private channels, none of them did. But this one didn't seem to mind just blurting out anything on his mind.

"We'll feel better once we're out of here," said a woman. "Place is cursed."

Ava understood what she meant. The wind that passed into the bunker from the main door sounded fierce, and it screamed around the eaves, like the screams of children.

"All right," said the soiled man. "But… promise me that ya'll put a bullet in my head if something grabs me."

The woman said she could do that.

They went on in silence. It became more and more unpleasant beneath the earth every second, more _creepy_ and eerily silent. They emerged into a large rotunda, with doors leading everywhere. They took the one labelled POWER SECTION, ORANGE PASS REQUIRED and passed into its featureless hallway for a little way. Then, in the glow of one of the still-working fluorescent lights, they saw something on the wall and they detoured over to read it.

 _Light_

But that's all it said. Below it was a dead body with one missing leg. Whoever this was wrote with his own blood.

"Hope it was quick." said the soiled man. Ava silently nodded at this.

"Stay focused," Seth said. "Stay quiet."

 **3**

They got lost three times. The power door had led them to a maze of tunnels and passages – some moaning with distant drafts, some alive with sounds that were closer and more menacing – and Seth put them back on track by spotting the occasion passage label that had THE CORE writ upon it. At one point, in front of a barred door big enough to fit a car through, they heard an unpleasant _chewing_ sound. Thankfully, it didn't budge and they passed it without knowing what was making that awful sound. Ava thought it might've been a giant centipede mutated by radiation, and thought that if they _did_ see it, would they be able to run?

Probably not.

Shortly after passing this door, they went down a long flight of stairs. Ava pointed to the dust on the risers, clearly seen were echoes of bare feet and boots. "Whose walking around without shoes?" asked the woman from before, but no one answered.

In the warren at the bottom of the stairs they lost themselves again due to the lack of signage. This time Ava set them straight through the diverging passageways, her keen eyes just barely recognising more markers as to where they were. They found themselves in a darker corridor, where over half of the fluorescent lights were out, and many tiles had fallen from the walls, revealing the dark and oozy earth beneath.

"There!" Ava hissed. "Go left."

It was hot down here. Soon they were all sweating freely in there bulky suits. Ava was panting like a little engine, but kept up in the protective circle around her. At least she wouldn't be the first to be attacked if something happened. No more dust could be seen on the floors. The noises from the doors, however, were louder, and as they passed another barred one, something on the other side thumped it hard enough to make those sturdy locks shudder. The soiled man – Ava thought – let off a tiny squeak.

"They can't break them down." Seth said.

"Are you sure?" the man asked.

"Yes." Seth said firmly. But in truth, he wasn't sure at all.

There were green puddles they had to skirt around – no doubt it was all radiation. There were pipes exhaling red steam they had to pass – no idea what was in them. They were lucky to wear these suits.

"Wait, please…" wheezed a different man, and they all followed his bid to stop contently enough.

"Matt, you okay?" asked the soiled man.

"Yeah… These sounds… there getting in my head…"

"I know what you mean. Here." The soiled one ducked under Matt's arm and Matt thanked him.

"This all looks the same from the last sign," said a woman, her name was Triss. "We should go back."

"No," said Seth. "Not yet. It's a little brighter up ahead, let's see what-"

On their left from where they had stopped, the ceiling had collapsed in and blocked the passage leading that way. And from a gap at the top came a low throaty growl that cut off Seth from finishing. When it passed, Seth motioned with his hands to push forward.

"… Let's move. Now."

And Seth's order was law. They moved away and up to another intersection. Ava was about to suggest they go back when they finally found a message from whoever had been here last.

 _Core Room_

And an arrow pointing left. They rested here for a while. Nothing to eat and nothing to drink, all they had was each other.

The soiled man turned out to be named Sam, and he had asked Ava just before Seth could ask if they were ready to push on: "Do you want me to hold that for you?"

"No," she replied, tapping the bomb on her back. "But thank you."

"All right," he said, and turned to the unnamed woman from before. "Rose, can you help Matt for a while?"

"Sure," she said, and put herself under Matt's arm.

"Are you all ready to go?" Seth asked.

The final one – who hadn't spoken yet – answered after everyone else had. "Yes. Right away, I think I'm gonna- _my God, what the fuck was that?"_

From behind them, had come a low thudding sound. It sounded quite liquidly , as if someone had jumped off a set of stairs and landed in a pile of mud.

"I don't know." Seth said.

Ava (and everyone else) was looking uneasily back over her shoulder, but all she saw were shadows. Some of them were moving, but that was probably because of their helmet lights flickering.

 _Probably._

"To say in technical terms," Ava whispered to all. "I think we should get the fuck out of here lickity-split."

"Agreed." Seth answered. And they followed his lead and unhunkered. They followed the arrow on the wall, at a pace short of a jog.

They continued at that speed for about twenty minutes before they came upon skeleton dressed in a rotting military uniform propped up against the wall. _Howdy! Welcome to hell, or the next best thing!_ is what that dead grin said.

They had to rely more and more on their own flashlights now. The light bulbs above them were slowly dying, there dim cores were only burning feebly. Some were gone out completely. At first one, then two, then three…

"Its gonna be completely dark before long." Triss said glumly.

"I know." But that was all Seth said.

The air was still unbearably hot. There were posters far beyond the point of readability, but there was one that depicted a man in power armour holding up the head of a ghoul or some other sort of mutant. The chest was puffed out and the helmet was aimed up and proudly towards the sun.

 _Wish I felt like that now_ , Ava thought, her head buzzing with growls and groans. _I'm about to go mad._

 **4**

There were more stairs at fifty pace intervals, that took them gradually deeper into the bowels of the earth. More and more skeletons on the ground. They had to step on them just to tread past. Some crunched, others made damp sounds that were worse. The walls had been pocketed by bullet-holes. A firefight.

Ava was about to say something about who they could have been fighting, but before she could, a combination of a hiss and snarl came at them from behind. It was a little louder than the thud. A little closer. Ava looked behind and saw nothing. Nothing but the dark.

"We're being followed," she said out loud. She didn't dare look back for long, she had to keep up her pace.

"I know." Seth said.

"We should shoot." said Sam. "Light up this tunnel a little."

"No. If we shoot, it will."

 _Maybe poison bullets and flames can't even_ hurt _whatever is back there,_ she thought… was sure of it.

This time Matt spoke up. "What the fuck is it? Is there more than one?"

"There's might be," Seth said. "Now shut up."

They began to speed up. Ava's breathing was loud in her own ears – quick, gasping intakes followed by rough expulsions that sounded like annoyed cries. There were fewer lights above them, their combined shadows would stretch long ahead of them, then shorten as they approached the next light. The air was boiling. The ground beneath them was less even then before. In places it had split apart, leaving traps for the unwary.

Ava put her right hand out to stop Sam's progress. He was about to ask why she did it when he looked down and saw he was an inch away from falling into a bottomless pit.

"Phew! Thanks!"

"Don't mention it." Ava replied, and the group kept moving.

"I haven't heard from our followers for a while-"

Sam was interrupted by something behind them scratching away at the bare earthen walls. Then there were footsteps, then a great growl that somehow caused air to fly into and past her eyes.

Whatever was back there, there were dozens of them.

No.

Hundreds.

"Run!" she cried.

 **5**

Running in that dark tunnel was insanity. But there was no choice. Their guns and heads swivelled in there chase, only illuminating the risers ahead of them for split seconds before they disappeared for longer. She climbed up the invisible steps behind her comrades. Four, five, six, all the way to ten and then the ground levelled and light shone up ahead. But between them and there was pure black.

"There!" Seth yelled. "That's the Core!"

What if she got a foot stuck in a hole? It was possible, given the way the floor was rotting. Or what if there was a big pile of bones in the tunnel? At this speed she would surely take a nasty tumble, and how many bones of _hers_ would join this place? She tried to block out the vision of seeing herself fall, but couldn't quite do it.

No choice. The things behind them were making noises all too clear to hear. Not just the growling but some sort of sandpapery rasping sound as something slid itself across the floors, or maybe the walls, or maybe both. Every now and then she would hear a clitter of what she deduced to be claws being dragged across the metal. Maybe it was Deathclaws? _Big_ ones? Hungry, angry lizards closing the gap between them and the group?

But they could close in no longer. The doorway was right in front of her, and she and Sam dived inside as Seth activated the locks and the heavyset door clanged shut behind them.

Whatever loved the darkness out there was scratching the door like cats. Ava took Sam's offered hand and she was back on her feet, huffing like a train engine now.

"Everyone here?" Sam called out. They all murmured. They were all in.

The rooms epicentre was dominated by a giant spherical contraption that stretched all the way up to the vaulted ceiling like a giant pole. It radiated a baby blue hue and the whole room bathed in it. Computers and terminals curved about along the Core rooms edges. Most of them displayed nothing but static, but the occasional one showed lines of coding and countless errors.

"Ava," Seth said. "Put the bomb at the Core's base. Ten minutes."

"Sir, how are we gonna get out?" she asked. "The way back is blocked."

"Just do it, there's another exit around here… There _has_ to be."

So she did as ordered and but down the bomb at the Core. It was similar to a briefcase, but the many flashing lights along its spine proved otherwise. Not to mention its inner workings revealed a small egg shaped thing with fins on its tail.

 _This is one of the things that killed the world_ , she thought as she put the digits to her desired time, which was 15:00 just to be safe. She placed the nuke carefully down.

There was a small panel with writing on the base of the Core. She took a moment to read it.

 _ **U.S.A GOVERNMENT PROPERTY**_

 _ **THERMONUCLEAR POWER CORE**_

 _ **ALL ENCLAVE PERSONELL ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTINUED FUNCTIONALITY OF THIS CORE**_

"Alright, its set. I'll start it up when…"

She was uneasy now. She hadn't heard a single peep from anyone since making her way to the Core. She turned her head and saw Seth, the unnamed girl, and Triss near what looked like a small emergency door built into the wall. Sam and Matt and Rose were pointing their guns and flamethrowers at the door, which was being assaulted by the scratching fiercely.

She heard a clicking sound from above her. The sort you'd hear from a human calling out to a cat – the tongue-on-roof sound. She looked up.

 _Now_ was the time she started to believe in demons and devils.

There, hanging from the side of the Core, was a reptilian-humanoid with dark, scaly skin. Chitinous spikes protruded from its shoulders and head. Two large luminescent eyes studied her every move. The thing above her was nothing short of _hideous_.

Ava went for her rifle which was on the floor by her side. As she did so, two things happened at once. The first was that the thing above her gave off a deafening shriek and snarled at her move – revealing hundreds of sharp reptilian teeth – and jumped towards her. The second thing to happen was the door had been broken inwards and more things looking identical to the thing above her started to pour into the Core room.

She quickly brought her rifle to bare, but the mutant was quicker. it jumped onto her head and began tearing its huge claws into the front of her helmet. The three guarding the door began firing, and her screams of fear were drowned out.

She seized one of its arms and tried to crush its wrist (she naturally had a strong grip, and the power armour only improved it). But its skin was like tough jelly, and she could feel the bones and flesh pop back into place no matter how hard she tried.

She managed to pull it off of her enough to fire a dozen bullets into its neck and chest. It tumbled off of her and onto the floor. It stayed sprawled there for a moment, before squealing and picking itself up and launching off its powerfully built legs back at her. Arms forward with claws aimed.

She sent the rest of her clip into it and its legs were sent skyward and it fell on its back, unmoving this time.

She reeled around and raced to the emergency door. Forgetting the fire fight behind her as she did. She was a meter away from the door when it banged shut and locked her out.

She stopped and looked through the small window slot, and was greeted by Seth's unique power helmet.

"Seth! Open the door!"

"Sorry Ava, I can't let those things into our only escape."

"You bastard! You said I was a priority! _Open the damn door now! Please!_ "

"I said you were priority until you put the bomb down. I wish there was another way, believe me."

"You son of a bitch! You've killed us!"

"I've killed a lot, true. But you've forgotten the first thing of being a Purifier. _No cost is too great_. I hope your death is quick. Goodbye."

Seth – along with Triss and the unnamed girl – disappeared.

She turned and scanned the Core. The others were holding the things away but that wouldn't last long. There were no other doors she could see. She was trapped. _Oh dear God, not like this,_ she thought, _I don't want to die like this._ _Getting shot is one thing, but eaten alive in the dark…_

She looked up. Thank God! There was a balcony halfway up the room, there _had_ to be a way out there.

There were no stairs she could see, but the giant Core had enough footholds for the mutant to hang onto, maybe she could use them too.

The reloaded the rifle and it locked onto her back.

She started the bomb timer. The beeping was almost precisely the same as when Ryder and Grace were in the Sierra Madre – slow at first, gradually rising intensity. It was a deafening sound, but Ava pushed herself to go faster.

She picked a moment to look down at her three other comrades getting swarmed by the mutants. One of them – Rose – was screaming in terror as two of the things tore into her shoulder, right through the armour! Two more joined her and sent her on her back, another three blocked Ava's view of her entire body. Rose wouldn't stop screaming until a full minute later.

Sam's helmet had caught Ava's movement and spent up all of his leftover flame and started climbing as well.

Ava looked away and resumed her ascent. She didn't see Matt fight on bravely for a few more moments beneath her. Matt got swarmed as well, the last thing he saw was Ava and Sam trying in vain to escape the swarm.

The snarls and shrieks and growls of the mutants, plus the beeping of the timer, gave Ava the adrenaline needed to jump across the wide space between the Core and the balcony. When she half-landed onto the railings she thought it might break under her great weight. But something was looking over her that day (or night, it felt like days since seeing sunlight) and the railing held for her as she picked herself up.

"Ava!" Sam cried.

She whipped around. The mutants were chewing on his feet and clawing at his legs. He was high on the Core, but not high enough to jump…

But Sam jumped, and Ava lurched forward and grabbed his arm which was a foot away from the railing. When Sam hung there, dangling above his death, the pain tolled on Ava immediately. Holding a power armoured man was nothing short of painful.

The mutants snarled as they jumped as well. With great nimbleness they clung onto Sam like monkeys, and were soon sinking there sharp teeth into his back. Sam cried out in pain and agony. "Lift me up, Ava!"

"I can't!"

"Please!"

But the more mutants that hung and clung to Sam, the more heavier he got. Seth's voice, in her head, not her helmet, said: _No cost is too great_.

She let him go to his death. She took a giants step into the safety of a doorway. Her hand found the button of damnation, and locked the doorway shut. Behind her, in the dreadful Core room, she heard no scream; Sam was probably too surprised to take note of his death.

Ava was too.

She turned, and left.

 **6**

Sometimes Ava would ask herself why she didn't have any friends. Why she had no family, why she was alone. She'd spend sleepless nights thinking of an answer, or an excuse, so she had a reason to get up in the morning. Because other than to go on bug hunts on order by that excuse for a human called Seth, what was the point of life?

She got her answer in that Core room.

Whether it was friends of family, they would all end up dying. She wished this would happen to Seth, maybe a knife to the throat while he slept with his sis. But of course, it only happened to those she actually cared for. A shame, really.

But as the redhead had said: they were family now. They were a substitute – a murdering bunch of psychopathic purists, deeming ghouls and anything even minutely animalistic as unworthy of living – but they fit the bill. She wasn't alone… kind of.

She found her way unchallenged to the rotunda room. She emerged from a different doorway, and looked towards the POWER ROOM one. There, on the walls, were two more mutants, who screamed bloody murder at her.

She let loose a cry of her own as she tightened her grip on the trigger and sent them down, expending her whole clip as she did so. She jerked the rifle back and reloaded.

"Grenade!" she heard Seth call. She than heard a-

 _ **Poomf**_

-and the cackle of orange flame exploded inside the power room doorway. The rotunda shook heavily, and the sound was deafening in this confined space. From the flames came forth Seth and Triss and the other woman. And Ava thought at first about shooting Seth in the foot, but decided against it.

"Glad you could make it, Corporal." Seth said.

Ava nodded.

"Let's move it before this whole place goes down."

The primal screeches behind them filled the air. The fire coated the floors and walls like water, and whatever muties tried to jump the gauntlet either met the fire and flailed helplessly or were picked off by the squad.

They staggered away (and shoved each other at some points) back up and into the lobby. Behind them the muties were sprinting, not eager to stop the onslaught just yet. They emerged into the afternoon light and pivoted on their heels. But they needn't shoot any longer, for the mutants stopped inches before the shadows ended and the sunlight began.

Afraid of the light, are they? Good to know.

"Stop gawking and _run_!" Seth said, and Ava needed no more incentive.

Never before had she breathed so evenly as of today. She was glad for the power armour, for she could probably never run as hard or fast as she was now without it. They ran on for about a mile, Ava thought her heart might burst out of her chest if-

 _Faster!_ she thought to herself, _Give it all you got! You're not dying today!_

And somehow Ava sped up faster then she believed was possible.

She explosion was so epic and out of scale, no one apart from those four would believe or imagine the grand scale of destruction.

First, there was a sonic boom, it passed over them, then was gone.

Then there was a bright light.

Then came the fire that would shake all of the surrounding USA for a few moments. Some would dismiss it as a minor earthquake, but others would know better. The loudest muffled bang was sharp and echoing, and it vibrated Ava's ears until she went deaf for little more than a whole day.

But she lived.

She actually _lived_!

Seth, who had turned at the right moment to view this display of tremendous purity, thought it was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life. Had they not ran any further, or the Core not been deeply tucked into the earth, they all would have literally turned to ash. There suits would just be hulking ghosts on the borderlands of the Mojave.

But no. Seth lived through this, and was inspired by the aftermath in the most dreadful of ways. To be frank, they ALL were, even Ava – who wouldn't be glad to see that place destroyed?

Picking themselves up, they four of them returned to the Purifier compound.

 **7**

"Well done!" cried the Bug Man to the survivors, he even patted Ava's shoulder (it was like being slammed by fifty pounds of weight). "The Enclave is forever grateful to your continued support, my Purific friends!"

He gave that titter laugh and turned to Seth. "AND, you didn't botch it up! Call me impressed! Though losing three more X-01's will cost you dearly, I'm afraid."

"Yes, Sir." replied Seth.

"But you three!" said the Enclave (General, or maybe just a Commander? No one knew) he turned and faced Ava and the others. "Which one of you performed exceptionally?"

Seth said, "I'd say it was the Corporal there, Ava."

"Ava?" said the huge figure, laughing the cold laugh. "What a funny name. Ava dear, step forward."

Ava stepped forward.

"How would you like to represent all your friends here, and head to Vegas on Seth's behalf?"

"… I-I would be honoured… Sir!"

"I'll send you with two of my best men to establish relations with the owner of said city! I trust your charismatic enough to… ahem… not disappoint?"

"Of course!"

"Very good, I'll give you more details in the morning. Rest up now, my dear, you have a script to memorise!"

"What!?" Seth exclaimed. "But we haven't dared touch that city of sin. If anyone should go it's _me_!"

"I'm sorry." growled the Enclave rep, turning menacingly to glare at Seth with those great bug eyes. "Did you say something, priest?"

"I… No Sir."

"Good. Now! All of you get out of my sight!"

 **8**

Ava had unsuited herself and was in her own personal en-suite looking at her tired face. Vegas! She couldn't believe it. The biggest thing she'd done was travel from the east coast to the west, and she lost too many in that journey for it to be a pleasant memory.

She had a lot of cons with becoming a Purifier, and she wasn't proud of some of the things she'd done. But as she stood there, looking back at herself, she traced the faded yet permanent tattoo that curled about her left eye.

 _I'll make you proud,_ she promised, reminiscing on the days in the company of family. _I'll make you_ all _proud_.


	21. Chapter 21: Damnation

**Damnation**

 **1**

In the distance, in front of rocky mountains with sharp points, the top of a church roof grazed Ryder's vision, this is where his thoughts relentlessly took him for the weeks spent inside the Lucky 38, alone, with Yes Man as synthetic companionship.

Today seemed normal enough for the post-apocalypse. He'd either sit in this casino, or go out and drink in the Vegas sights. He'd stay up late and sleep in, with only Securitron's to hold conversation with. They said nothing but stock responses. He wanted to tell himself it was better than nothing, but didn't believe it really was.

The sound of a rolling wheel behind him. He didn't turn. "Something come up, Yes Man?"

"I'm afraid so. It requires… human input. And uh… well, you should just hear for yourself."

Yes Man's claw came around into view. In its grip was his pip-boy. Ryder gave Yes Man a look before taking it. On the little screen was a list of radio signals (the Sierra Madre one had disappeared) the only one worth looking into was one labelled:

 _Happy Trails Expedition Broadcast_

Ryder looked at Yes Man. "So?"

"Just have a listen, Ryder, I'll tell you after."

Ryder complied and played the signal.

" _Howdy. My name is Jed Masterson, and I'm a caravan boss for the Happy Trails Caravan Company. If you're hearing this, I have a job offer for you…_ "

The man's friendly voice trailed on. He was looking for guards, prospectors, couriers and the like. Ryder didn't find the message too interesting, until the man said the following.

" _Happy Trails is organising an expedition north into Utah, where we will set up shop in the province of New Canaan._ _Everyone needs a buddy to watch their backs, so bring a partner and find me, Jed Masterson, at the Northern Passage if you're interested. Luck to you._ "

"I take it you don't want me to go on a holiday," Ryder said once the voice went silent.

"We're running low on the old food supply, and one of our trade routes north has been destroyed by a pack of what I presume to be Deathclaws. If we want to last longer than a few months, we'll need supply from the north."

"I'll think about it, okay Man?"

"Sure thing," said Yes Man.

If Ryder's luck was anything to look back to, he would no doubt meet his father if he took this caravan to Utah. Ryder did not want to meet his father, not after all this time. But there were other things that made him consider the trip. Things his mind would never admit.

 _Bring a partner and find me…_

There was only one other 'partner' he'd trust to watch his back. And that someone had (physically) gone away. (But not mentally)

He supposed he could use a bit of fresh, wasteland air, which contained two hundred year old fumes, radiation, shit and piss and death. But hey, it was home, in some deep, disgusting way.

Sure, Utah wasn't very appealing to him. But if he got out, and Grace would come with…

He had to take that chance.

"Wait, Yes Man."

"I haven't even made it to the door yet, Ryder! What is it?"

"Where's my armour?"

"Deciding to go?"

"Yeah. I'll need to make sure you'll be fine on your own."

They went to the main screen were House's face _used_ to be. From there, Ryder took a few minutes to tweak a few of Yes Man's systems and modifications to suit his needs. Ryder estimated to be gone for a few weeks out there, maybe more, so Yes Man had to take things into his own 'hands' so to say.

"Benny put my programming into such a loose state, that I had to obey any command I was given. Plus, I had to give suggestions just in case something wasn't obvious enough!" Yes Man told him. "So, you wanna narrow that list of flexibility to just… say, one?"

"Make it two. Just in case Grace comes back, she deserves this as much as I do."

"Alright! Ryder and Grace and Yes Man, three peas in a pod! Oh! Do take in mind that with your current friends, taking out the Purifiers and winning is about… thirty percent likely to succeed! So maybe, while you're up in Utah, you can bring back some more support? I'm just saying!"

"I'll try."

"Great! That's all we can do, right? Anywho, you better get going. Good luck out there, and come back real soon!"

Ryder went to the bathroom, and replaced his suit with his armour. He admitted he hadn't felt as comfortable in years, but he also hadn't felt as lonely in just as long – even though he was surrounded by men and women, but it was just as Grace had said: they were all snobs.

He decided to leave Red Lucy's shotgun behind, and instead took the anti-material rifle and the six shooter from the Sierra Madre – he tossed Maria into the top drawer and forgot its existence entirely.

He bid Yes Man farewell and left the Lucky 38, left The Strip, and left Freeside. He gave one last look over his shoulder at the big city lights, before crossing into the wastes, and towards Home.

Around half the day passed until he reached Home. The burnt church was already well into repairs – looked like the Deathclaws really could use hammers after all. Some blotches of the exterior were charred, but it looked habitable and Ryder felt glad the Deathclaws didn't have to find a new home.

A few pairs of said Deathclaws were wondering around those great windows of art, they waved and greeted him with clear joy. He also greeted them, and asked where Grace was.

He wasn't surprised by the answer.

He didn't enter Home, and he didn't try to find Brooks or the Four. Instead, he made his way down to the lake, which was looked over by that great fortress across the water. The Legion's Home. With a bit of hope they wouldn't spy Home, but that was a long shot.

Down there, near Tater's plant, was _her_. He made his footsteps easy to hear and she twisted to face him. He stopped a few feet behind her.

"Ryder? What're you doing here?"

"Well, there's this caravan…"

 **2**

"Thirty percent?" Grace asked. "Is that good?"

"Not really," Ryder replied. "Seth and Bess are a lot more dangerous than just a handful of hired guns."

"Any idea who hired them?"

"House wanted to find that out, according to Yes Man. But before he could… well, you know why he never did."

"… So?"

"… So, what?"

"So why am I going to Tah-you?"

" _U-tah_ ," Ryder corrected. "We might find some help up there, increase our chances and such."

"Okay. But I asked you why _I_ was going. I'm not a good talker."

"Well you didn't say no back at Home. So why did you come with?"

"Because I… You didn't answer my question."

Ryder grinned a fake grin. "It could be fun."

Grace scoffed at him. "Fun?" she laughed. "Nothing out here is ever _fun_."

Ryder changed topic. "You still keen on coming with?" Grace frowned and slowed her steps. For the second half of the day they had been walking towards the Northern Passage. Her eyes dropped, seemingly in tiredness, but they looked exactly like the sun did – as it slunk behind the distant horizon.

"Did I… Did I say something wrong, Grace?"

After a moment she replied, "… No. No its just I… Are we almost there?"

He gestured to up ahead of them to a set of high hills. "Just up in that cave mouth, yeah. Oh! You left this behind in the suite, I put a few extra things in there, just in case you get bored."

Grace mumbled something while taking the old mailbag.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. She slung the strong strap over her right shoulder and positioned the bag on her left hip. "Let's go have fun." She smiled.

"Let's," Ryder agreed.

And up the small dirt path that lead up the hills they went.

 **3**

Jed Masterson had lost contact with New Canaan a while back, and while his company still had plenty of business going through northern NCR, New Canaan was a rare jewel – the Mormons there had a lot to trade and as of now, no other caravan had gotten their hands on them yet.

He didn't expect many of the right types to come wandering into the passage. Probably some city-folk looking for action, carrying old BB guns and wearing suits that they'd hate to get stained. But he was greeted by a young lad with an odd tattoo on one eye and a bandage over the other. Young, yes, but he looked the right type. He _was_ the right type. Plus he had one of them big rifles on his back and a revolver on his belt. He looked a lot older than his age. A lot more dangerous.

"Howdy, friend." he greeted, offering a hand that was taken and shook. "Heard my little broadcast did you?"

The young man released his hand and nodded. "I'm not sure if I was clear enough, but I did say you'd need a buddy to watch your back on the road to Utah…"

"I brought someone, she's just waiting outside." the kid replied.

"Well I hope there's no wrangling between the two of you, the road's dangerous."

The kid flustered slightly and shifted his feet. The three other Happy Trails members behind Jed got the kids attention. "Is this everyone?" he asked.

Jed nodded. "Gotta keep it small, I reckon you'll be the last pair to join us. So tell your lady friend to get in here and we can get going."

The kid lowered his voice so only Jed can hear. "She's a bit… well, not exactly a _human_ …"

"Ghoul, huh?" Jed chuckled. "Don't worry, everyone's welcome here."

"Well, not exactly a Ghoul either…"

When Jed blanked, he said with clear impatience, "Out with it already."

"I… You know what? She can tell you herself. I can't speak for her." He turned around and called out. "Grace!"

 **4**

" _-tell you herself. I can't speak for her. Grace!"_

Grace was thunderstruck. She had been listening in the entire time to the side of the cave mouth entry. She heard all four of the humans murmuring to each other, she could smell there sunburnt skin and venomous odours. She could also smell food: beef and some of that stuff Ryder called coffee. Her stomach grumbled. Not the best look, is it? A hungry Deathclaw in a tight cave, uninvited with a face of pure dismay.

She crept around the corner, she made sure her footsteps were nice and loud; announcing her presence in a hope of _not_ scaring the shit out of everyone. But all that did was make her clicking talon-ridden feet sound more menacing.

She put the corners of her mouth up, and formed her chops into a toothy smile.

None of the Happy Trails party had moved. The back of the passage – a few feet behind Ryder and this 'Jed' man – there sat three people, two women and a man, around a small fire. One of the women was wearing a dark drown duster with a laser rifle on her side, with her hair tied back into a lone braid. The other woman was wearing prospector attire with a wide-brimmed hat concealing her pale face. The last man was wearing a bright blue skin tight suit, with the number 22 stitched onto the back in yellow.

They were watching her with interest, fear, and anger, all mixed into one terribly awkward state for Grace.

She shot Ryder a frantic, furious look: _What are you doing to me?_ Ryder looked back blankly, and folded his arms.

Her anger faded, replaced by terror. Jed arched a brow, in his eyes she saw worry and curiosity. The cave wormed up further and further into darkness behind the human party. She tried to avoid the glares and peer into the distant dark.

 _What the hell am I supposed to say?_

 _Better say something,_ said Ryder's look. _We're waiting._

"… I… I'm sorry for startling you all," she said. "My name is Grace."

She laughed at herself. She sounded like the biggest idiot. She hadn't spoken to a crowd like this since first entering Home. She hadn't improved since then. She thought her singing might've helped, but most of the audience were either drunk or 'high', and Ryder did most of the talking. "I-I'm… glad to meet you all?" she asked, more to herself then them.

"A talking Deathjaw!" said the blue-suited man, she noticed he was wearing sunglasses. "I've seen hundreds of em'! Keep your distance, lady-lizard!"

Jed was expecting a lot of possible candidates walking through that cave. A _Deathclaw_ was not one of them. For well over many years, Jed had been truly surprised at that moment. He wanted to speak, but he simply hung his jaw and scratched his head for the moment.

The woman with the laser rifle – who would later tell her name was Stella – said, "You're with _him_?" She had pointed to Ryder.

"Unfortunately," she mumbled, but no one heard her.

The woman with the wide hat shrunk into a crack in the rocky wall, saying nothing.

The sunglasses-wearing man stood up – a small SMG on his hip – and approached Grace briskly. She need only glare at him for him to divert his course and find that the wall was what he was going for.

"So… its… and… you and… well, I…" Jed said, gaining everyone's attention. He was thinking quite hard about the advantages of having the extra protection, among other things, and during that time Grace stared into Ryder's soul, but Ryder ignored her.

After a few awkward and silent moments, to which only staring was the contender, Jed said, "Can… Can you hoof it for a while, Deathclaw? Hoof it in tough… canyons and such? Tight spaces?"

"Sure."

"Y-Yeah, okay. Uh, well. I think we should… We should get going right away! Yeah, everyone pack it up and lets go."

"Huh? What, now?" said the sunglass-wearer, who would call himself Ricky. "My pit-boy's having a little trouble and-"

"Our friend here has one." Jed said, nodding to Ryder. "So he… and _you_ ," He looked at Grace. "Will lead with the maps."

"I'd rather not have a Deathclaw at my back." said Stella, standing up. "It better not kill me in my sleep. But Jed, if you really wanna move now…"

"I do. Pack up your things, everyone. We move in five."

The wide hat woman still shrunk away, Ricky, Stella and Jed moved to several large duffle bags stacked near the fire – arguing over who carries what. But before Ryder could join them, Grace had tugged his arm back with a bit too much force intended, and brought his face right up to hers. She gripped his shoulder's hard and gave off a low hiss.

"You did fine, Grace."

"No thanks to _you_." she snapped. Her tail, which had been quite spindly a since there last encounter in Vegas, had grown thicker and sharper and was flat against her backward-angled legs. "Why did you put me in that position?"

Ryder considered this, and looked at her as if the answer was obvious. "I'm sorry if I didn't want to be your goddamn _mouthpiece_." he spat. "You want me to talk _for_ you from now on?"

"What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked.

"What the hell's wrong with YOU?" he countered. "If I were you I'd be grateful that I got to speak for myself."

"I _am_ grateful, but-"

"So what is the damn problem? You're not gonna say that fucking 'I don't belong here' bullshit are you?"

Grace held back a snarl but failed. "I don't have to take that from you."

"And you don't have to come," he said. Anger was coming to him, but before he could dig a hole between them, he let his voice calm, and when he went to say something-

His words pierced her like knives. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, fury boiling inside of her. She hadn't felt this kind of hate towards him since… well, she hadn't really _hated_ him in any way up until this point. There had to be a reason why he was doing this. Why _she_ was here. She would find out… but she was just too damn confused at this moment.

"Let go of me," he said, which sounded more like an order. She had not realised that her claws might have dug into his skin, it was fortunate that he had the armour protecting him.

She released him. Huffed, then made her way past the humans towards the tunnel, tugging her bag to her side as she did so. She passed the group and swiped up two duffle bags onto her free shoulder. Jed was giving Ryder a confused look.

"Nothing," Ryder assured, and picked up one duffle bag, it was excruciatingly heavy, and everyone else held one each as well. With Ryder in the front, they walked down the tunnel, where Grace was waiting, but when they joined her, she wouldn't speak for five days.

 **5**

They winded themselves through crevices, canyons, ravines and rock trenches for five days straight. Grace sometimes got stuck in a few narrow passes, and she would neither ask for help nor thank the humans for helping her out. The group eventually came around to getting used to Grace – they tried starting up conversations, but she would not reply and they were fine with that. She could carry double the load the humans could, and to Jed that was just fantastic.

They asked Ryder how they met and he told them the Story. Changing a few names here and there, twisting a few events and details, but he knew they didn't believe him. Grace didn't interfere. She would separate herself from the nightly campfires, but whether to give the humans space or just to keep distance from Ryder, no one knew.

It was only on the fifth day did she speak up again. They had emerged into a clearing between two canyons, and had gotten low on supply for dinner. This however, was solved by Jed, who had given tasks to Ricky, Stella and the other woman who called herself Suze to find something edible. However Suze (who was acting as a sort of mother to Ricky, who was a Psycho addict) split open her calf on a cactus and couldn't walk. This was left up to Grace, who Jed asked to…

"Deathclaw… I mean, Grace, can you go find some broc flower?"

She nodded.

"You know what that is? Little orange-"

"I know," she insisted.

"Alright," he said, and turned to Ryder. "You know how to make healing powder?"

"Yeah."

"Good, good. Meet up back here, and don't take too long."

Jed left, leaving Grace and Ryder in the clearing. Suze was there, though she had crawled to the furthest possible distance away, slinking into a rock wall like a scared cricket.

"Ryder?" Grace asked after some time had passed.

"Yes?"

"What's a brook flower?"

He was about to correct her, but held that back. He picked through a duffle bag and pulled out a piece of flint and a steel rod and two small brown empty bags. "Come on," he said, and walked up a small dune blanketed in short tufts of dead grass.

Grace followed.

A few minutes later, and Ryder hunkered next to a crowd of crude orange flowers. He took out his knife and cut off three stems. He then pulled out two thick roots out of the ground, they had green stalks protruding from a ring of raised dirt.

He put the plants aside into two piles. "Broc." he said, pointing to the flower. "Xander." he said, pointing to the flower. He took out the flint and steel and struck it over a small clump of dry, shredded grass, muttering words as he did: "Bless my camp with fire, it is what I most… desire?"

"What's that?" she asked.

"Some nonsense from my childhood," he said. And he thought it funny how some childhood words were left behind, while others clamped on tight and rode for his whole life, though not forever, it seemed.

From there, he showed her how to make powder with nothing but a fire, roots, and flowers. She took his instructions silently, and when he finished she made her own. Hers was just as good if not better than his own.

After they filled the bags with the powder, he handed her the flint and rod. He nodded when she took them – _You might need it someday_ – and stored them away.

He went to say something. "I…" and she knew what he was going to say, so she shook her head and said, "Let's get back," and they did.

"Well I'll be," said Jed, who took the powder and sprinkled it over Suze's leg. "Deathclaw-made powder, thanks a bunch. I'm glad you came along."

Grace certainly wasn't, and she knew it would only get worse from here on out. It was an intuitive thing, and she would be right.

But tomorrow they would see trees. The first since Vegas. And it would be good. After they had dinner, the dark held them as they drifted into sleep. Beyond the circle of the dying fire the wind moaned, bringing a faint sweet smell of rain. Grace was the last to fall asleep, as she tilted her head back and watched the clock of the stars turn, her dreams were filled with horrible visions of fire smothered by rain, it didn't feel right today, some evil thing was watching over there weekly trip, waiting to pounce.

And tomorrow was living proof of her worries.

 **6**

On the seventh day of travel, after pushing through the final slim paths through walls that were seemingly on the brink of closing in around them, they made a series of final drops into a large opening, and were finally able to drink in the fresh open air.

And they were greeted by Zion Canyon, a place spared from the horrors of the Great War. Ryder stood on the cliff to the right of where they emerged, scanning the breathtaking landscape of rivers, and the paths bending around grand rocky mountains, all of them littered with _trees_. Actual trees! The whole of Zion illuminated by the bright sun peaking over them all in the morning light.

There were several thumps behind him. The drug addict, Ricky, was bent over into a nearby bush, no doubt hiding his stash of drugs for the walk back. Suze was with him, mumbling something about it, while Stella and Jed called them all over into a group, dumping the now light duffle bags next to a heap of rocks.

Grace nudged his shoulder, he turned and smiled. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He was glad he hadn't completely killed off her joy. She smiled and nodded. "The others are waiting."

"All right people," said Jed, when they all made a circle around him. "Been a long week, but here we are. Zion."

He held out a handful of caps to Ryder, Ryder pocketed them. Jed did the same for all, including Grace, whilst saying: "I know you're tired. I know your feet hurt. But I need everyone's mind on the trail ahead."

Stella shook her head. "Aint the trail ahead that worries me, Jed. Those descents we made, through that slot canyon back up there? No way we're getting back out the way we come. And then what?"

"Goddammit Stella, heard you the first time… and the fifteenth too. The New Canaanites will know a way. And if they don't, well… enough lollygagging, get moving and keep an eye out for tribal's!"

Jed took the lead, Stella on his right, and Ricky, Suze, Ryder and Grace behind them. There was a thin trail that lead down past a set of trees towards the nearby cliff, where Ryder just caught a glimpse of a bridge. Their feet planted onto _real_ grass, thick and green and soft. They also passed sunset-orange flowers on their left, where they grew all the way up to more rock edges up twenty feet above them.

"How come this place didn't get hit by any A-bombs?" asked Ricky to no one in particular.

"The Sorrows tribe says the 'Father of the Cave's' watches over this place," answered Jed. "Pretty nice sights, hey?"

"Nothing special." Ricky scoffed.

"Wait." ordered Grace. And everyone stopped.

"What?" asked Jed, not turning.

"There's someone on the cliff up ahead."

Ryder squinted, and found who she was talking about. Just behind a rock, he could vaguely spot a pale man with his hair curled into dreadlocks.

"I don't see nothing," said Jed. "We should… wait… I heard something."

What he heard was actually the tinkling sound of a grenade rolling down the bright brown rocks to the left of them. Before anyone could call out, it detonated and sent chunks of rock flying and raining down upon them. Suze was the closest, and was sent backwards a good distance. She fell backward, feet up to heaven, and landed upside down with her boots on the trail.

" _Auntie_!" Ricky cried, taking out his (he called it an 11mm submachine gun) and bolted across the trail, shooting wildly and furiously. He'd die in ten seconds.

Ryder and Grace dove right, behind a slim rock that jut out of the ground like a big knuckle. Jed and Stella hid behind the twin trees ahead of them, baring there pistol and rifle respectively.

Two waves of tribal's crested the sloping path head. Three each, Ryder counted, plus one on the cliff, but as he looked up he spotted one more with grenades all over his chest, about fifty feet up on an outcropping of rock on the left. The shooting began, so did the tribal screams and the cries of Jed and Stella.

The tribal with the grenades took a red and yellow ball from his belt strap, and flung his right hand behind his shoulder. A great shot that reverberated all ears and rang out far over the hills sounded off. A chunk of the grenade-throwing tribal's throat flung off, and the man tumbled back and out of sight, doomed to become nothing but a great red mess once his grenade set off.

Ryder pulled back the bolt on his massive rifle, a shell of a bullet tumbling to the ground as he did so.

The second tribal on the cliff ahead of them was wielding a very familiar gun. In a few seconds, a huge wave of bullets swooped over the rock Ryder and Grace were hidden behind. Grace tried to stand up, claws ready, but she was hastily ducking once with bullets flung by her head.

Ryder aimed over the top of the rock, spied the tribal on the high ground, and fired once.

The tribal rolled to the side, and tumbled off the cliff to belly flop onto the ground behind the remaining tribal's.

"Jed! Stella! Your right!" Ryder shouted.

Stella spun to face two pale men wielding clubs flanking there cover. She fired a careful and precise volley of red beams into the closest charging one. The tribal imploded, and his face screwed up before death took him and sent him slumping over a rock, painting it from brown to red. She had no chance on getting the other. The tribal brought his gauntlet which was exactly like a mantis foreleg, down on her like an axeman to a log. Her arm tore free from her and landed palm-up behind her.

" _Stella!_ " Jed cried, firing two shots and killing two tribal's on the trail. He spun and fired his remaining rounds into the one who severed Stella's arm. Three holes tore into the pale man's chest, killing him instantly. Jed leant over Stella's prone form, staring horridly into her confused and dying face.

" _Don't you die on me…"_ Was his last words before a bullet found the back of his head, and he was sent sprawling over Stella's soon-to-be-dead corpse.

Grace vaulted over the rock and charged towards the two remaining tribal's. One was in the midst of reloading its pistol, while the other clutched a bolt rifle and aimed it to the closing Deathclaw. She was ducked low and all four of her limbs were but a blur. It only took her a few moments to close the wide gap, and the tribal with the rifle only fired off one shot before Grace mauled him.

Ryder killed the last one quickly, one last thunderous sensation, that when died out in the distance, filled the valley with sudden silence. Ryder reloaded, the smoking barrel of his rifle momentarily pointing to the sky. Beyond him, Grace was wiping her claws on the grass.

He got up and went to her. Passing the corpses of Suze, Jed, Stella, and finally (he hadn't noticed) Ricky – a fire axe imbedded into his dome, his blue suit painted crimson.

Grace picked up the machine the tribal on the cliff had been wielding, and held it up to him. "Didn't you used to have one of these?"

In her grip was a _.45 auto_ rifle, with a drum mag no less. It looked a lot more pristine than his old one, as if recently made. He nodded. She dropped the gun and silently scanned what _used_ to be Happy Trails.

"Do you think you can use guns?" he asked. She looked at him with a brow raised and presented her claws.

"Not with these things," she replied. He noted she sounded slightly disappointed, and _pained_? He approached and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," she lied, and turned away. That's when he spotted the one rifle shot had scraped her hip. Ryder slung his rifle onto his back and moved to the pile of duffle bags, searching… searching… then finding a handful of stim's.

He moved down the trail, and saw Grace sitting by the bridge, gently prodding her wound and hissing lowly as she did so.

"Stim's? Or Powder?" he asked, holding up the two objects.

"It'll heal on its own."

"Stim's it is, then."

"Don't touch me."

"… Alright."

"…"

"…"

 _ **FT!**_

"OW! You bastard!"

"Feeling better already, isn't it Grace? I think- _Oof!_ "

She had punched him in the gut. Hard. He fell on his rear end and clutched his stomach, dropping the empty stim aside.

" _Can't… breathe."_

"Now, we are even."

" _That was… too much,"_ he gasped, getting to one knee. He caught his breath back after a moment. "We should… skedaddle out of here."

He could tell she was quite excited. As she crossed the thin wooden bridge, he noticed a good spring in her step. He wondered what was going through her head.

He grabbed a few essentials from the caravan bags. He'd return later if he needed to. He didn't know these people for very long, and had minimal reason to mourn. But still, he went to close the eyelids of them, but found that Grace had already done so.

 **7**

Fifteen minutes later, they passed a low rock studded slope on the left of their path that led down to the river. There was one rock shaped like a knife, slanted up to the heavens, and a perfect spot to perch. Grace moved halfway up the rock, and scanned the water.

Ryder came up behind her, then suddenly pointed into the water. "Look! Look!"

"What?!" she said, leaning in that direction.

"Head up the rock a bit, you can get a good view of it."

She took three steps up the slope. Scanning. The deep blue waters showed no features to her eyes.

"A bit higher." he said. "You'll definitely see it then."

A few more slow steps later, and she reached the peak, she half squatted and looked down into the steady currents. Eyes darting left and right, tail swishing in excitement.

"I still don't see anything, what's-"

A small bump from Ryder encouraged her body to tumble into the air, hold for a moment, then… _sploosh!_ Into the lake she went, lacking grace.

She took a moment to stay where she was, submerged into the quiet depths of the water, then emerged her head and shoulders, she looked frantically left and right, then upwards. Where over the top of the rock, was one little eye filled with glee.

"Is the water lovely?" Ryder asked.

"I had my bag on me and- _oh I'm gonna kill you_ …"

From his left hand, the handbag dangled from the strap on one of his fingers. " _Now_ we're even." he smirked.

She looked at him with the most purest state of hatred. "I'll show _you_ 'even'..."

She did a back flip and submerged into the depths. Ryder spied her flowing through the lake, just below the surface, with her tail and body swishing left and right in an almost natural rhythm. Ryder sat up on the rock, letting his legs dangle down, and looked around the surrounding area. It all was simply nature in its reserved prime. He wondered distantly on how such a place existed, when only the last week was nothing but dying brush, and Vegas was only a desert. There was a nip in the air, something hard to come by in today's world, and it wasn't in the least unpleasant. The air just felt _breathable_ , as if the Mojave was filled with poison.

"What now, Ryder?" Grace asked. She had surfaced nearby, and was doing a faint impression of treading water. He sure did get into the weirdest situations, didn't he? He was talking to a swimming Deathclaw that he had _pushed_ into the lake, and he was still breathing!

"We could go back, if you don't mind boosting me up all those narrow canyons." He tipped a Mentat into his palm, and tossed another to Grace. She caught it in her chops quickly. "Or we could go to Canaan, see if it's really as good as Jed had described it."

"Is that all you want to do up there? _See_ it?"

"Guess so."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

 _But it's not, is it?_ she thought, but what she said was, "Have you ever seen humans as pale as those tribal's who attacked us?"

"Nope." he replied. "Mustn't get a lot of sun, I guess."

She had quite a few questions. _Why did they? Who are they?_ But who'd answer them? They hadn't encountered anyone else, and the solitude was both scary and welcoming. It wasn't everyday she got to have a good swim in a clean body of water, without all the raiders, like the ones sometimes on Home's beaches.

Something brushed past her leg, and she snatched at it so quickly that Ryder jumped, he saved himself from falling, and asked her what she was doing.

She smiled and held up something that squirmed in her grasp. It was a long, thin _thing_ covered in scales and pores, with two paired fins on its bottom side. Its head and mouth was one of the most mutated and vicious things that any creature would back away from. Grace was the exception. Ryder pulled his legs away when she brought it closer to him.

"What the hell is that?" he half-shouted, the thing flapped its spiky tail around, like a whip it tried to crack against Grace, but her grip was firm.

"You're not scared of it are you?" she asked, examining the critter intently.

"Look at its _face_!" he said. "It's so ugly!"

"Bit like yourself," she said. Ryder glared, Grace chuckled. She drifted a bit closer to the rock, the creature out front. Ryder stood up and backed a few steps.

"Come on!" she said, grinning. "Its harmless!"

The would-be-critter-of-hell hissed, writhed in the Deathclaws grip, and snapped its jaws up at him. At the speed of light, Ryder was off the bank and onto the trail, rocks kicking up behind his blurry feet.

She climbed the nearest rock and said, "Wanna take a dip? I promise not to let this little guy bite."

"I'm fine up here, on dry land. Away from… whatever _that_ is."

"You're scared."

"No I'm not."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

She tossed the aquatic demon in a flat arc in his direction. He made a noise that was both and _Eep!_ and a _Bah!_ that made him jump a few feet back. The thing from the lake flopped around in front of him, the primal _snap! snap! snap!_ of its jaws filled the air, making Ryder's eardrums complain.

Grace made her way to the trail, went around the fish, and heartily laughed _at_ him.

"Yeah, alright." he said. "I'm scared of a thing spawned from hell. Laugh away."

She whipped round to pick up the slimy animal, hitting Ryder's ribs with her tail as she did this action. She turned and grinned when she did so: _Shouldn't have pushed me_ , is what he took from her features. She swung her arm and threw the animal back into the lake. Ryder swore it's black void-like eyes was staring right at him before it disappeared.

She came up to him, and like a wet dog, shook her body from the water. Ryder was soaked.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," she said happily, and knocked him with her elbow. The smile on her face was nothing short of cute. If only he had met someone like her sooner, maybe he wouldn't be this desperate for company.

"I'm glad you're here." he said. He felt a little bit of heat in his cheeks when she grinned and said, "Likewise."

Wishing to hide this burning sensation, Ryder turned his head slightly and looked up the trail. There was at first nothing but logs and trees and rocks, but as he peered for a few seconds…

"Hoi!" called a figure in a young, excited voice. Grace turned in that direction, at first ready for trouble, but the tribal ahead was dressed differently than the pale ones from before.

"Hoi?" Grace called, oblivious to her own smile.

"Hoi! Survivors! You look very nasty! … In a good way, of course!" called the man. "Who are you two lucky kinds?"

They closed the distance. The tribal was about the same age as Ryder, maybe older. He was at first sceptical of Grace, but then was quite excited when she introduced herself. He had never seen anything like her. He described her like one of those "Thunder lizards" only bigger. His name was Follows-Chalk, and he had heard the White Leg's shooting and had come to investigate. He was surprised to see survivors.

"White Legs raid, pillage, poach, kill, they are our enemies! You both from the outside, huh? Joshua will want to hear this."

They asked who Joshua was, and he said that Joshua was also from the civilised lands (where people don't forage to survive, he said, Ryder shook his head at this but said nothing) and would want to meet them.

After a good few miles of walking, Ryder asked Follows where they were heading. Follows replied by saying they were heading to the Dead Horses camp. Grace and Ryder exchanged a shrug, and decided to go on with all this, Follows-chalk seemed friendly enough.

They came upon the Dead horses camp after a good twenty minutes of walking along hilly passes and narrow canyons submerged in knee-deep water. But eventually, they spotted a cluster of huts surrounding some caves.

They followed Follows-chalk into the camp. On an outcrop above was a tribal standing guard, tomahawks at the ready.

"I will see Joshua," Follows-chalk said. "I will tell him of your arrival. Wait here." And at that, he moved into one of the far caves.

There are a few well-maintained huts, but from first glance, Ryder deduced that the caves are by far the more used option. The caves appeared clean and spacious. A few tribal's had steamed out to gawk, but none approached. The two of them walked further into the tiny camp, where no more than fifty people could live, and noticed a bunch of men and women gathered around a moderate fire. With silent agreement, Ryder and Grace went over to the gathered tribal's, where two women parted to make room for them to sit down.

The smells of charred wood and fruit were prominent. The tribal's passed around a meal of chunky meat in a fine wooden bowl. When a woman offered it to Ryder, he was glad he accepted. It was very filling. Ryder passed it to Grace and she smiled from the sweet glaze smell.

"What are you?" One woman asked, looking at the big Deathclaw like a child would a new toy. A few others sighed there agreements.

Grace passed the bowl along, and wiped her chin. She took a breath before saying, "I'm called a Deathclaw from where I come from."

"Deathclaw." the woman said, tasting the word. "Yao Guai: big and scary. _You:_ big and scary, but sound very educated."

"Thank you," Grace smiled.

"Tell us of… _New Gevas_. That is where you're from, yes?"

It took Ryder a second to figure that she meant _New Vegas_ , and he couldn't help but snort at this. Other tribal's looked at him, and he quickly sobered up.

They were so entranced with the outside world, Grace offered to tell them of a few adventures. With eager faces, they surrounded her as she spoke of a city of dead called the Sierra Madre, and the terrible man who sought to control its ghosts. Also the fight between her kind and the dreadful Dark One's that wanted nothing but to exterminate all life. When she mentioned the Purifiers, some gasped and some shied away – they found the wider world quite dangerous but exciting. Her 'stage-fright' didn't exist here.

Whether they believed it or not, it didn't matter. They enjoyed it well enough to look wistfully at one another after Grace fell silent.

"What can you tell me of Joshua?" asked Ryder to all of them.

One tribal shrugged, two others laughed.

"He showed us the power of thunder, and fire." said a beefy male. "He bathed in the flames and was reborn as our saviour. The White Legs will crumble!"

He and another strong tribal high fived. The smack of their hands cut into the air.

"Excuse me for a second," said Grace. She got up and went back behind a rock wall, out of sight. (Number one, Ryder thought)

A small cup was passed to Ryder. He looked in and saw it was filled to the brim with thin red chillies. The woman next to him had three in her hand, and he took and ate one just to test it.

A second later the chilly propelled out of his mouth, the beefy man ducked just in time to avoid the spice fly by like a bullet.

"Too cold?" the woman beside him laughed, eating with a mouth full of the burning spice. Ryder ran a few feet, leant into a body of water, and drank up like his life depended on it. When the heat died down, he returned to the fire and sighed.

"Piss water." said the same woman.

"Huh?" Ryder said.

"Piss water!" she repeated, pointing to where he drank from.

"… You better be joking."

The tribal's roared laughter, and several hands clapped Ryder's back. But he never got his answer, _it didn't taste like piss… but what does piss taste like?_

Grace returned and hunkered beside Ryder. He wiped his mouth handed the cup of chillies to her.

"What's this?"

"Fruit stems," he replied quickly. "… Have a few, or else you won't taste it."

She grabbed a handful and lifted her hand to her mouth. At first he thought she wouldn't do it and grow suspicious, but she chomped them down. All of them. And swallowed with a grin.

She looked at Ryder's crazed and bewildered face, smiled and said, "What's wrong?"

"Well, aren't you just a bag full of surprises young man!" said the woman beside Ryder, clapping him on the back.

"He's a bag full of something, alright." Grace said. The tribal's roared again.

 **8**

Follows-Chalk returned with company. Beside him was a tall, strongly built man with white bandages covering any skin that wasn't hidden behind his white collared shirt or his heavily patched blue jeans. He was wearing a bullet-proof vest with the letters SLCPD and SWAT etched into the chest area. He looked the dangerous type. His blue eyes filled with reserved fury. Yet his voice was calm, prophetic, and welcoming. He rested on the ground, opposite side of the fire where the Deathclaw and New Vegas-man sat. The tribal's wordlessly gave him room.

"I didn't expect anyone from the Mojave to come looking for us." said the burned, bandaged, but breathing body of Joshua. "And a talking Deathclaw no less. Not the one I was expecting, but I suppose he has nothing more to do with me."

"Another?" Grace asked. "Who?"

"There are a lot of people who know that I am alive. Caesar is but one. I've killed enough of his Frumentarii that have come looking. One of them, was different – like you. Maybe you'll see him one day. But now I must ask who you are. I am Joshua Graham, leader of the New Canaanites."

They gave their names. Joshua's eyes gleamed at Ryder's mention, but said nothing. Ryder then said, "We came with Happy Trails to make contact with the New Canaanites."

"Happy Trails." Joshua mused. "Good friends. I'm sorry but New Canaan was destroyed, all because of the White Legs. And Caesar, of course." He explained why. "The White Legs want to join the Legion. Caesar's rite of passage is the destruction of the New Canaanites, almost assuredly because of me. We have many maps of the region to help find your way back, but what with everything that's going on, we can't help you right now."

 _In other words,_ Ryder thought, _help me and I'll help_ you.

"I'm more than willing to help out." Grace said.

"Same," said Ryder.

"It is good to know that even in dark times, there are still good friends to look to rather than the Lord. But I need to have a word with you, Ryder, in private."

"Oh, alright." Ryder said, and stood up to follow Joshua away from the crowd at the fire.

When they were alone in the nearby clearing by the shallow lake, Joshua tilted his head, and spoke lowly. "Do you share your father's name?"

"Uh, yeah. He's… alive?"

Joshua nodded. "I was not under the impression he had a son."

"Where is he?"

The man in the bandages pointed to a cave, it looked uninhabited from here. Ryder went anxious. It had been a long time, but it was comforting to know he hadn't died in New Canaan. No matter, a little chat couldn't hurt, right? He started towards the cave, but a burnt arm of Joshua's stopped him.

"Even someone like him has emotions, Ryder." Joshua said carefully. "Don't let yours blind you."

Ryder looked quizzically at Joshua for a moment, before turning and walking into the cave where is father was.

What he would not know until it was too late, was that by walking into that cave, he would suffer both emotionally and physically, that he would later prefer to have died than to see what was inside.

 **9**

Stalactite's covered the floor and walls of the cave – the air gave off a warm, cosy feeling – yet hidden behind and in the shadows, a dark fate hid itself like a hungry predator.

Torches illuminated the way forward, the young man's handsome features went orange in there radiance, then into darkness as he passed in between two rocks, going deeper and deeper into the earth. A hundred thoughts came and went into his head, some nervous, some worried, some excited. What would he say? What would _he_ say? _What_ would he say? What would he _say_?

But in a few minutes, no more than a sentence would pass.

Up ahead, rocks cleared, and the low light was like a beacon, drawing him in. He put his palm on a rock, and peered into the clearing. He could faintly see the rising and falling of a sleeping body. He approached. He emerged. He stared.

There he was. Tucked on his side and sleeping peacefully, was Ryder's father – Ryder. Senior Ryder, the bigger, and better, apparently. A thought came – _did he name me in his image, hoping I would never cross his word, and become him?_ – and went. The straw bed roll was two bodies wide, the tribal version of a king-sized bed.

At first Ryder (the younger one) didn't believe his eyes. It was an illusion – his mind playing tricks – but he couldn't deny the truth for long.

Ryder's father had his arms wrapped around a naked tribal woman. A smile on his cursed face.

For a long time Ryder simply stood there, his face was confused with what emotion it tried to display. Hate? Anger or Sadness? Maybe all of them? Distantly, a drop of water smacked the floor, adding to how lonely the world was right now.

His father's sixth sense – or perhaps it was Ryder's rapid breathing – made the two bare figures lying on the straw bedroll stir.

Ryder's father smacked his lips together as if this morning was no different from any other – as if he was _used_ to waking up with a woman who speaks English poorly and has the body of a prime athlete. This only added to Ryder's confusion.

Slowly, his father opened his eyes, and it took only a second for their eyes to lock. Grey eyes of the younger filled with hate, but the blue ones of the elder presented only puzzlement.

It seemed that time had sped at that moment, and that it was hours before Ryder's father broke the deadly silence.

"What are you doing here?"

The one who brought him to this world said those five words in a way of _un_ pleasant surprise. _What am_ I _doing here?_ Ryder thought angrily. _What the fuck are YOU doing here?_

But the old rule of Respecting your Elder's forced him to be silent. The woman who was sleeping with his dad woke up, stared at the younger man nearby, and turned to the man she was sleeping with for a few weeks now.

"Who is?" she asked. _Who is this_.

"… D-Dad?" Ryder whispered, he felt awkward, but he _had_ to say something.

The tribal covered her breasts with her hands, and mumbled something to the father. But Ryder caught those words, his hearing had improved.

" _You have son?"_ she had whispered.

And this was all it took for Ryder to wipe his eyes on the crook of his elbow, turn, and walk out of the cave.

Ryder ignored his father's calls to stop. Ryder ignored Grace's questions when he exited into the early night, and left the camp with reddening eyes.

 **10**

Grace followed Ryder into the valley, there was enough light to find him sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out over Zion. She had an odd sense of nostalgia as she approached. Is this what _she_ had looked like, on the beach near home, with thoughts racing through her maturing mind?

No matter. Her friend needed her. She knew this, but didn't expect what she would hear. Not in a million years.

Ryder was breathing erratically. Not the way someone under panic would, but she noticed as she closed the distance, it wasn't breathing but sobbing.

She sat herself on his right. There was liquid dripping from his hands that covered his face. Not much, but enough.

"What happened?" she asked.

He sniffed, and inched his head in her direction. "Nothing."

She gave him a look that said _Yeah, right_. but she was on his literal blind side. However she needed not say anything, for he came around to his senses, and told her in a few words of clarity. She was confused when he was done.

"You didn't come this way just to have fun, did you Ryder?"

He gave one sad, lone chuckle. "You got me."

"Did you come to see your dad?"

"No."

"Then why?"

He refused to look at her. "Because I… It's…" Ryder trailed off. Seeing his father had made him someone else entirely.

Grace remembered a past conversation she and Ryder had had. The way he had talked about his father… There was a sort of reserved hatred, but also a deep respect. If he didn't come this way to see him, the question of _why_ lingered. She would not get her answer today. Maybe not ever. But if she had, she wouldn't have been surprised.

"Look, Ryder, I know what it's like to-"

"No you _don't_!" he suddenly shouted. Fury boiled within him, it was let out in one, terrible set of words – all the painful and bottled-up memories of his parents. The caravan days ended with father striking son, that strike had travelled with him, and now came out in an insult to Grace. "You _don't_ know what it's like! Your parents are _dead_! And I…

Grace looked like she _had_ been struck. A wave of pain washed over her, and the young Deathclaw felt like shouting herself senseless. Slowly, she got to her feet.

"I... I'm leaving" she whispered, and walked away. But the hurt was not done with her. He replied with,

"You're good at that."

and she tightened her hands into fists. Her claws dug into her palms hard, and blood started to pour from them. If she weren't given the gift of consciousness like other primal beasts of her kind, she might have killed him then and there. Instead, she turned her head and said, "I'll be with the tribe, helping myself get home."

"Good."

"… Don't follow me."

"Fine."

 **11**

Grace was gone. It only made the water pooling in his eyeless socket more irritating. But before he had seen that he was alone he mumbled, "Please… don't go… I'm sorry…" but no one would hear him.

When he finally opened his eye and saw nothing but shadows behind him, he wished something would curse him for his stupidity.

"God… DAMN IT!"

 _What the hell were you thinking, Ryder?_

A nearby flock of birds flew off, determined to find a quieter spot. _To be with you_ , he thought, _You wouldn't leave me alone, after we took Vegas._

He had done so much pain to her.

He just _had_ to remind both her and he of that, hadn't he?

It must've been hours, of him doing nothing but mope on his mistakes, until he heard heavy thumps behind him. Hope filled him, and his eye slowly turned to face behind him.

"Grace!" he said. "I-I'm so sorry, you can hate me all you want but I-"

The heavy blunt end of a club struck his dome, and he nearly went sprawling off the cliff to his death had not a set of arms grabbed him just in time. The world spun in his vision, and he felt like throwing up. Warm blood dripped past his eye, making him instinctively squint.

A large humanoid shape squatted next to him, rubbing his hair with its club-free hand. He saw black hair, and what looked like animal skulls on its head and shoulders.

"You'll be damned," it said. Ryder quickly went for his Sierra Madre pistol, but the club smacked him once more and the world went dark.


	22. Chapter 22: Impressions

**Impressions**

 **1**

Mental energy flurried, and what was the view of a softly burning fire and cool air swung into a piercing shot of bright red light.

She had no legs to buckle, no claws to fight, no eyes to cry with, all she had was her mind – the drug-enhanced thing that had given her so much pain – saw the beginning of devastation.

The red light was blinding, but not so much as her mind's eye couldn't handle it.

She wasn't there, but she could feel her mother's back pressing against her front. Protecting her. Hiding her. Saving her. From the Demon.

The bright vision of the Quarry, of her Pack, of her young and care-free life – the life that had seemed so innocent, suddenly grew as dark as what she imagined was hell.

Through the light, a humanoid silhouette blocked out the sun, shading her in momentary shadow. Her mother pushed her. _Don't move_ , she pleaded. And move she did not.

The object of death was flung from the hand of the Demon to her mother, and her eye caught it. The pain was indescribable. She felt her mother's pain before the end – as she has with everyone else she had lost to this day.

Her mother ended, and Grace was reminded of how she had only escaped from such a fate by sheer luck alone as she cowered behind the corpse of her parent.

She pleaded. She remember pleading for a long time on that dreadful night as the Demon overlooked her hiding spot and took her unborn brothers and sisters and left. That night was the worst. The rest that followed weren't so bad. But _this_ night might change that.

Her mother was dead.

Father too.

And Dalon…

… Everyone…

And now Ryder was too.

Gasping, she flung herself up from her comfortable spot by the fire, heaving heavily, hissing loudly, her big body hot and sizzling. With a pounding heart she sat up and saw she was still perfectly safe in the Dead Horses camp.

Grumbling about the nightmare, she rubbed her hands across her eyes.

She didn't usually have this sort of horrible dream all the time, but it certainly had been slowly growing from just every now and then to now usually every few days. And it had only needed Ryder's stupid reminder to come back and torture her again.

It would end on that horrible sound, the sound of the blade striking her mother, sickeningly squishy followed by the pluck as the Demon removed it.

Since Grace wasn't too keen nor bothered to try to sleep again, she crossed her legs and removed her bag from its pillow position and onto her shoulder.

The few tribal's she could see were lingering outside their caves, hanging dripping clothes onto suspended ropes – most of them waved at her. She wondered what they must think of her.

Next to her was half a bowl of that dish they had eaten yesterday afternoon. Unceremoniously, she tipped it back and let the now going cold meat slip down her throat. She tossed it aside after she was done.

The wind sung past her.

It felt unusually dull in such a nice place.

She didn't know what to do.

She simply sat there with lidded eyes. Hating what she said to _him_. Hating what he said to HER. Should she go back to him? Would he come back to her? It wasn't as if he could go anywhere, he was as new to this area as she was. Unless of course he had lied.

She rolled her jaw at that.

He would never lie to her.

… Would he?

"Have you seen my son?"

If she weren't a tall, nearly matured Deathclaw that had begun the early stages of changing into the body of an alpha, she would have jumped at that question. She slowly turned to view an man getting on in his years with the beginning of wrinkles on his face that was stood on her flank.

The man wore ammo belts across his chest, a duster on his back, and two big revolvers on his belt, along with a shotgun. It reminded her so much of how Ryder sets up his own gear. The features looked so alike, she was somewhat surprised. He was a bit on the thin side, but the eyes hidden under that hat showed so much experience it reminded her of Elijah.

Grace sighed, and turned back to the now dead fire pit, and clicked her chops.

"No."

Ryder's father walked round her, eyed her cautiously for a moment, then sat on the opposite side of the pit. "Ryder teach you how to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Talk."

"It came to me. But he helped, yes."

The man didn't reply. She looked at him again. The left eye was tattooed – a crude, curled up like a dead insect, V shape. Almost identical to Ryder's. The man grabbed the hilt of a knife from a shoulder sleeve, and tugged it out. He examined it thoughtfully.

"What did he tell you about me?"

Grace paused before answering. "Very little."

"I s'pose he told you about how I left him back in that forsaken desert. Hope your smart enough to know that it was the other way around."

He put the knife away and drew out a pack of smokes. He offered, she accepted. He didn't react when she drew it casually, as if he'd seen this all before.

"What happened last night?" she asked, thinking of that cave…

He studied her for a moment. "It's none of your business. What's your name? If you have one."

"Grace."

He pondered on that. "Grace… Grace… Not something I'm familiar with. I thought he'd give you one of our old names."

"He didn't give it to me."

"Good for you."

They both drew.

"And you are?" she asked. He gave her a look she found wasn't quite serious.

"We share the same name. He didn't tell you that, did he?"

"Well, he might've mentioned it a while back." she said, thinking with palm to chin.

"He must've changed if he even mentioned my existence."

"You sound disappointed."

"Our family is sacred. He should not have told you anything, even if you're a talking chameleon. You see Deathclaw, we have rules, standards, things that trace back to my parents and their parents before them. All the way down the Line of Verl." He indicated his tattoo.

"He told me he was born on the road. That doesn't sound sacred to me."

Ryder stroked his handlebar moustache slowly with one hand, thinking. "I should have known on that day he wouldn't follow our ways. It took many years for him just to even read! Let alone write!" He squashed the smoke on the ground. "He didn't even want to join me up to Canaan. Tell me Deathclaw, why did he come here?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? It couldn't have been for me. I gave him the chance to join me but no – the Mojave had got him."

"Why didn't he come here with you?"

"Why would he? All he ever wanted was to leave his family behind. And right when I needed him… Where is he?"

She waved vaguely in a direction and asked, "Do you know how to get back?"

"Out of Zion? No. Joshua wouldn't even tell me, and I've been here far longer than you. The sooner we deal with the White Legs, the sooner we can leave."

He got up and walked off.

Grace looked around at the camp, then at the fire. She watched the ambers dance. Here she was, one of the only few Deathclaws in existence to be granted the gift of sentience, sitting by a fire surrounded by her 'prey'.

She didn't think sentience was a gift.

Life would have been so much simpler without Ryder – it was a cold, but true fact. Her worries wouldn't consist entirely of others normal Deathclaws would consider prey – it would simply be about killing them for the next meal.

She remembered asking Yadon if they had 'recruited' any other Deathclaws that hadn't been born inside Home's walls. If perhaps they had converted the primal urges to turn a 'bad' one to good. Yadon had said they had tried many times, but had also stated that it was by luck that at least _she_ wasn't like _them_.

She found the art of speech very fascinating. Even her first words came out in a rush, but it was a good rush – the kind you get when you get a present or something.

She had discovered so much about herself and others by talking. Sure, a lot of it was bad, and could've been well worth NOT knowing about – like Elijah for example, he was pretty high up on the insanity level, and she suspected that wasn't even the lowest point a human could go.

But then there was Ryder, stirring up all these things inside her that no Deathclaw was meant to feel for another being. He accepted her without a second glance, unlike most of his weary race. The tribal's counted, sure, but they had never seen her kind before.

But why had he done so? Why waste time and resources to raise her from that Quarry? He had been attacked by others of her kind, but what made _her_ so special?

He had mentioned her being 'cute' at a past point. Is that why? She certainly did not see herself as cute, how could anyone find her even remotely pleasant to be around with?

Yet Ryder and her had actually shared a bed together, and she knew this proved a rather odd but certainly not unpleasant emotion from both parties.

She'd just love to sit down and talk.

But here she was, running away from him.

The second time as well.

Ryder's father was still in her sight, walking out of the camp.

She got up, slung her bag, and followed him.

 **2**

He did not ask her to leave him alone, but the look in Ryder's father's eyes told her he was very weary of her.

It was annoying.

He knelt on the ledge where Ryder and she had had that rather horrid conversation last night. And that was when she had the feeling that something terrible had happened.

Ryder – the younger one – was nowhere to be seen.

And before they left the ledge, she had failed to notice the tiny but ever so present odour of blood.

"He was here?" the old man asked, one hand on the butt of a pistol. He was scanning the valley.

"Yes."

"Hmm."

In the distance a crow cried out. This made Zion incredibly empty and quiet when it died out.

Grace felt the edges of worry creep into her. It felt bad. _And I am the lucky one?_

"He probably went to the Sorrows camp north of here," he said, nodding north.

Grace looked at him disbelievingly. "We only just arrived here, how could he?"

"They might have come and found him, or he ran into their territory. Either way, we're checking."

There was a third possibility, but neither of them acknowledged it. Not yet.

The man started making his way down the slope. For a moment Grace stayed and stared at the spot Ryder was sat.

 _I'm sorry,_ she thought with a shake of her head, and joined the father.

 **3**

The long walk through and between the riverbed valleys was mostly uneventful and silent. Grace stared in awe at the trees, plants, bushes, and the insects that buzzed around them. Compared to some of the other beasts she had seen on the Mojave, this was a good treat.

She deduced that Ryder's father had been here for a very long time, for he gave the flora no second glances, and edged her to hurry on with impatience and to stop "Looking at nothing." He'd either skirt around nature or hack impatiently away at it if it overgrew along the path he knew well. And if there were giant Radscorpion's or things called 'Fire Ants' then he'd kill them with those big revolvers on his hips almost unconsciously.

It was intriguing to note how different father was from son. Perhaps it was just due to the years of experience this man had. Was this old man like Ryder when he was young? Maybe not this cold man with a business-only attitude. She wondered if in a few years time, she'd still be as confused and lost as she was now – she wasn't very old, in human terms. And in _her_ terms as well.

She stared at the older version of Ryder for long periods of time as they walked on in silence. Thinking. Wondering. And he had noticed this but said nothing, so she decided to start.

"That… _thing_ on your eye," she trailed. "What is it?"

"It's a mark," he said, as if it was so simple to understand.

"Of…?"

"Of our devotion to our family. We all get it when we are young, it reminds us of what we… _used_ to do."

"And what was it you 'used' to do."

"Breathing life into a lifeless world," he explained. "Bringing communities together. We are the life force, we go back hundreds of years, and it wouldn't have ended if we hadn't gone into NCR for so long. They wouldn't know secure if it stared them in the face."

"And if we had a son that actually _wanted_ to lead the Vee's Knee's to success. But ever since his Branding…"

"Branding?" Grace asked.

He pointed to his tattoo. "We have a branding iron, and you first heat it up in a fire…"

He explained the Branding process, and Grace never thought she could feel so sick. To have a hot piece of metal _burn_ a letter into your face, as part of your 'initiation' into the family – the pain must be dreadful. It was no wonder Ryder never mentioned being 'Branded'.

The thought of how long it would take to let a scorching letter settle into your skin made her face twitch unconsciously.

"That's horrible!" she said. They had just crossed over a wooden bridge.

"It's necessary."

"You're a caravan!"

"And you're a Deathclaw. I help people. What do you do? Raid and pillage and kill. I don't need to explain anything more to you."

"I'm different."

"Sure."

"I haven't killed you yet."

"You wouldn't have a chance."

She gave up. She opened her bag and produced two Mentats to eat. But just before she could, she spied him eyeing them.

"Want one?" she asked. She secretly hoped he'd say no. He looked at her sceptically.

"… Where did you get those?"

"We've had them for awhile."

" 'We'? You mean Ryder?!"

"Yes."

"He… How long has he been taking those?"

"I don't know. Why?"

He sped on. "Hurry up."

And from there he dropped the conversation. Since Grace was oblivious to the term 'drug addiction' she was clueless as to why he sounded so angry.

 **4**

In the most north-westerly corner of Zion Canyon, Grace and 'Ryder' entered the Sorrows camp. They followed a river through a canyon until the ravine widened to show tents, shacks, and bridges that crisscrossed the river to connect many ledges where even more shacks and tents had been built.

After a few minutes of Sorrows company, Grace found that even though the Sorrows were well armed, they were quite peaceful, and wished nothing more than the wellbeing of all life.

Even the White Legs, in some ways.

They continued up through the waist-deep river, into the heart of the camp, where they met a middle aged man in a black shirt and a big hat sitting by a fire, reading a thick book she'd later know was called a Bible. As per usual, he was frightened by Grace's appearance, and mumbled an apology about her caravan being attacked. Word travels quick, she supposed.

Grace hung back as Ryder conversed with this man, called Daniel, about the tools needed to evacuate Zion. She thought Ryder's whereabouts would have been a higher priority, but she was oddly mistaken. In fact, Ryder's father hadn't even mentioned _Ryder_ until she had waited for a few minutes before interrupting.

"Aren't you going to ask him about your son?" she huffed to him. He turned and glared and was about to speak when Daniel said:

"I never knew you were a father."

 _That's two_ , Grace thought, and her view on Ryder's father lowered.

"Well I am." he said. "Have your Sorrows seen anyone in the Valley?"

"No."

Grace stepped forward. "No? Well… Let's head out and look."

Ryder's father said, "If the scouts can't find him, I don't think you could either."

"Are you even worried about him? We have to go out and search before…" She didn't want to finish that.

"I am worried," he said, but to say it sounded assuring was to lie. "but we have problems here-"

"Problems bigger than your own son?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Deathclaw. The Sorrows are few, and we need to properly fortify the camp from the White Legs."

"Well, why not pursue the White Legs if you're willing to defend them?"

Daniel cut in. "There is an important difference between killing in defence and waging war."

"You're wasting your breath Daniel," Ryder said. "A Deathclaw wouldn't know that."

"It's no wonder Ryder wouldn't want to mention your existence," Grace snarled. "You're a total… _asshole_!"

He did not reply.

"I hope you haven't rubbed off on any of these tribal's, they'd be assholes too!" She clutched her head in frustration, turned, and stormed away.

"Go on and stay here – I'm going to actually _do_ something about all this!"

She waded through the river and out of the camp.

 **5**

"Unbelievable… Suppose I should've seen that coming..."

The rants about how the man's death should be sooner, how he was a general prick, and many insults and remarks about how much of a lowlife he was, and the occasional _like father like son_ comment, soon died off into the silent air from her under-the-breath mumblings.

Grace was stalking through banks and small plains through Zion for a few hours. She was angry, to put it blank. Yesterday (and today) had been completely horrible. It wasn't the worst days of her life, but they were pretty high up there.

All she had encountered so far in her search was old park stations, crashed vehicles split in half, and the occasional White Leg scout that she quickly took care of. As she killed more and more, they began to increase in size and numbers – she was drawing them out the further she stayed out here.

No problem for her. But she did admit she began to feel hungry. And tired. Thirsty as well.

Maybe a tad lonely.

The thought of eating the White Legs crossed her mind. But they didn't look very filling, and it bothered her to think about devouring them. _Like I'm supposed to_ , she thought.

She went to a nearby pond and took a long drink.

She eyed the White Leg corpse off to the side.

Being raised in human culture by a _human_ certainly made her a rather strange being in her opinion. Where there should have been a mutated reptile hunting for blood and prey every day was instead a young Grace searching for a friend – a _human_ friend at that. After many instances of being without him, this one was the worst.

Because she was worried. _Genuinely_ worried about her supposed prey. Other times she was concerned for him, but after those remarks last night, she should _not_ be worried.

But she couldn't help it. Why was that?

She looked up to the clear sky. If Mother and Father were looking down on her, what would they think of her? Out here in such an alien place, searching for a friend that wasn't a Deathclaw.

 _I care about a human, can you believe it?_

They certainly could not. But she didn't know that.

Joshua Graham – masterfully – snuck up on her and said, "I never thought on your first visit to Zion you would slaughter so many."

"How'd you find me?"

"The Dead Horses are capable scouts. You won't defeat the White Legs on your own. Believe me."

"I don't know if you heard, but Ryder's missing, and I'm going to find him."

Joshua sat down by her side. His sharp eyes looked dead ahead. "I had noticed he did not return with you last night. I will do everything I can to help you – it will benefit us all if we join together and fight."

"That Daniel and _other_ Ryder don't think as you do."

"Daniel and Ryder are good men, despite us not seeing eye to eye. They only want what's best for the Sorrows. As I do with all who enter Zion. But we must work together if we are to succeed. You won't find him by searching aimlessly out here in the valley, the nest will only grow more agitated. Let us go back to camp, you'll need more than a bag and your claws if you wish to find Ryder."

She thought about this for a moment before agreeing on one condition. "We find him first before I help you."

"Grace," he said, standing. "We're going to do both at the same time."

 **6**

It needed no saying, but from the moment the first bullet had grazed her, Grace knew range would be her biggest weakness when it came to fighting. The tiny pistols and long rifles of the Dead Horses she tried using fit rather awkwardly into her grip. She couldn't even hit a cave wall from ten metres away.

So Joshua couldn't help that part out, but he could help her take more fire.

She had thick skin, but her hide could only stop bullets for so long, she had both personal experience with this, and so had others of her kind. The solution? Armour, of course.

It took a day and a half, but Grace had forced herself to put away her concerns in order to properly prepare for the days ahead. It would do no good to die out there. And although the more time passed, the more worried she became of Ryder, she just had to hope.

But hope wasn't all she had. On her shoulders were heavy leather shoulder pads strapped on by thick bandoliers that crossed over her mid section. Several pockets scattered about her leather armour – room for weapons she didn't have yet.

At first the leather felt rather uncomfortable as it rubbed against her skin, but like most things she just got used to it. They had tried metal instead, but that was worse. A bit of 'Kevlar' and leather, said Joshua, should be enough for her. That, and a few medical supplies – stim's, herbs, some things the tribal's have been using for years.

"Do you believe in God, Grace?"

"I don't really know," she said. Where was God or D'law or whoever when her family died?

"Whether there is a God or not, his existence doesn't depend on what you believe or what I say. Your friend's father has done terrible things that he doesn't dare speak of. I hope you can learn to forgive. We've all sinned. Every day, we move closer to our judgement. We must do our best to walk in the footsteps of our Lord and teach others how to do the same."

Grace nodded for him to continue.

"For many of us, the road is a difficult one, but the path is always there for us to follow, no matter how many times we may fall."

"And do you ever 'fall'?"

"Every day."

Grace thought this whole conversation was just about the father, but Joshua was a good judge of character, ever since being baptised in flame. Grace meant well, but her friend, the one with one eye, was holding something back, just like his old man was for all this time.

"But the time for forgiving is for another day, Grace. We will take the fight to the White Legs and bring your friend back. There's a ravine. The Three Mary's. If there's anywhere your friend will be, it is there. I'll gather the Dead Horses and we'll head there now, if you're ready."

"I am."

With a few adjustments to her new armour, Grace followed Graham into the Valley, hoping to anything that when they got to Three Mary's, it wasn't too late.

 **A/N: Apologies for the lateness. And shortness. And everything. Getting back into this slowly but surely. Your patience is appreciated.**


	23. Chapter 23: Think with your Heart

**Think with Your Heart**

 **1**

Grace removed her talons from the impaled White Legs chest, letting him slump into the river which was only crystal blue ten minutes ago. Now it was ripe with blood.

 _This is taking too long_ , thought the Deathclaw, as she slaughtered her way up the river with her fellow tribal's on her sides, armed with clubs and guns that would kill anything in their path before Grace got her talons on them. It bothered her – how much they were killing. It made her reconsider if this was all really worth it, but she shook her head of these thoughts and pressed forward. The White Legs know only to raid and kill, they deserved this.

Then Ryder's father's remark popped back into her head. _A Deathclaw only raids and pillages and kills. What are you doing right now?_

Just as she thought of this, a White Leg threw itself at her, no hint of retreat in its face as Grace cut open the humans torso before tossing it aside and into a rock wall. She pressed on. Swinging her arms and slicing her claws in some kind of death dance as she and the Dead Horses paved the way into Three Marys. The White Legs fell easily, but never without a fight. For every five they killed, one Dead Horse fell. But they had the element of surprise which was more than enough to push forward.

After a good dozen minutes of fighting, Grace found herself at what must have been the deepest part of Three Marys, the main White Legs camp. Small rivers twisted around islands filled with huts and tents, all of them guarded with weary tribal's. One such tribal looked a lot more distinct than the rest. This one was a burly man. Big mask of bones covering his face, huge gauntlet on his arm.

Behind him was a cage.

In the cage, a human.

She was about to push herself away from her concealed position, but Graham had already beaten her to it and was charging, pistol blaring, into the clearing with what looked like Sorrows tribal's on his flanks. Before she could wonder too hard on why Sorrows were here without Daniel or _him_ , she and the Dead Horses joined him in his attack.

Graham fired away with his tiny but certainly powerful pistol in his grip with his left hand cupping his right. Five shots, five kills. Reloaded. Repeat. He was so eager to fight he had willingly closed in on the White Legs and fought them hand to hand before killing off yet again with his gun.

The White Legs were crushed.

And she didn't feel the least bit satisfied.

Graham ordered the tribal's to fall back and take no prisoners as he searched the camp. Grace stood with him and stepped over the body-littered rivers and banks and made her way to the cage were her friend was slumping inside.

Graham was also there, but his focus was on a cowering White Leg with the mask of bone on his head. Half curled up and lying dangerously close to a fire pit. Graham stood over this White Leg, gun trained on the cowards head.

"We warned you at Syracuse, and you persisted," he said, evenly, but with a hint of pure hatred. "You took advantage of us at New Canaan to drive us out, and like the dogs of Caesar you are, you followed us to Zion…"

Grace walked over and knelt by the cage. Its inhabitant looked at her painfully. She asked him if he was alright, he said yes.

"You kill all White Legs!" the tribal pleaded. "Stop! T… Talking Devil! You talk! You stop!"

That was Graces label to the White Legs. Talking Devil. Quite fitting, really… She stood and faced Graham.

"Don't listen to this… thing!" he spat. "He gave no mercy to my family, and I will give none to his."

Grace picked her next words carefully. "You've won Graham. It's over. The Sorrows don't need to see you do this."

"I want my revenge. I want him to suffer. I want all of them to die in fear and pain. Make my anger God's anger. Sometimes I tell myself that these wild fires will never stop burning." Now more to himself, while watching the observing Sorrows. "But I'm the one who starts them. But I won't do it today. Go. Get out of here. Go back. Back to the Great Salt Lake."

The tribal didn't need a second asking. Cowering in the water like some animal, the last of the White Legs stood up and ran. No doubt as far away from Zion as he could possibly get.

"That's it. Its finished. Thank you for… staying with me. I couldn't have done this on my own." Graham lost the death look in his eyes.

Grace nodded. She took the cage door into her arms and ripped it off through brute strength. Ryder, a little worse for wear, stumbled out, relieved. A nearby footlocker held all of his equipment, and he walked over to strap on his armour and gear wordlessly.

"I'm going to find Daniel," Graham said, leaving the two alone. But he wouldn't have to look too far.

And together they stood there. Man and Deathclaw, in the centre of a pile of bodies, neither one knowing what to say or do. There was a certain awkwardness in the silence that passed, but eventually, Grace decided to break it.

"Are you hurt?"

"… No," he lied. "You?"

"No," she lied.

He shifted on his heels.

"Grace I- What I said… Back at the camp I…" he trailed there for a moment. "I-I can't be-"

He couldn't get any further than that. Grace wrapped her arms around him, and leant her head against his, carefully so her horns didn't hit him. At first Ryder didn't react, but slowly, he joined his own hands round behind her back. They stayed like that, sharing warmth, taking comfort in each other.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "I'm so, so sorry."

"… Just this once." She smiled. "I forgive you."

"First the Sierra… and now this. What next, huh?"

"Whatever it is." She shook her head slightly. "I'll always be there for you. You're… all I got left, Ryder."

Something lifted in Ryder's chest at that. Something not quite dread, and not quite relief. He pulled her closer. "You asked me why I wanted to come here, to Zion. I… I'll try and tell you."

Ryder, who had held this secret in his own counsel until it seemed more complex that it really was, was surprised at how quickly and simply it was told. And Grace, he saw, wasn't completely surprised.

"So your saying I… _intrigue_ you?"

Ryder listened for rejection in this question and heard none. "Y-Yes. Were you expecting that?"

"Hmm… How do I intrigue you?"

"Is… Your speaking to me right now an answer?"

"No. Please… answer me."

"Well… What you just did with Graham and that tribal. You talked Josh out of killing him, it would've been easier just to kill him. Be done with it. You've done it before… like when I wanted God to suffer back in the Madre. All the violence you've seen and you let the White Legs leader walk free? I'd never even consider that."

"What else?"

"You're brave. And _grace_ ful. Ha, get it? … No? Okay. Plus your forgiving, er, obviously."

"Anything else?"

"I… I just want to be around you. I don't think I can explain why," This was only a half lie. "I just like talking, to you."

"I like talking to you as well."

"I'm glad."

She gripped him a little tighter. "You really mean all that, Ryder?"

"Every word."

"I know we're different, Ryder, I know what people think of me and what I am and what my kind has done. I'm… I'm glad you can see past all that."

Saying and hearing these things made her light-hearted and her stomach tingle – a nice feeling. She just felt really wonderful to hear these things being said about her. She'd like to hold him for longer, closer even, but she was already starting to crush him and would let go in a few moments, but it did not make her mood lower in the slightest. Because she knew something had been discovered between them on this day, and it was something she would gladly let flow between them.

She let him go, and then she smiled at him, and he just smiled back. They let the moment stretch for as long as they could, before they turned and got themselves involved in even more dilemmas. The fight was far from over.

Daniel was there, he was downright furious with Joshua about his aggressive ways and he was right to be. The Sorrows had been exposed to the White Legs eradication without Daniels input. In the years that followed, they transformed from a peaceful, timid tribe into a proud and warlike people. But they learned from Grace's convincing that retribution could be tempered by mercy, and that at least would bring some comfort to Daniel.

Ryder's father was there, off to the side watching the rivers that were ripe with fresh blood. Neither Grace nor Ryder knew if he had witnessed there little private session, but if he had he didn't show. Because as Ryder walked up to him, his father looked at him neutrally, then switched to Grace.

"The Sorrows saw you and Grahams assault. We couldn't stop them from coming. They'll never be the same again."

"I had to find him," she replied, looking at the one next to her.

"Son, I… I'm glad you're safe."

Ryder gave a timid nod. "Okay."

"What do you mean 'okay'? I-"

"I'm going back to camp, dad. Just… leave me alone."

He went to walk past but the older man put a hand on his shoulder. "Please, just listen… It's been far too long-"

"I know."

"-but you have to understand that I did what I had to do!"

"I don't even know you anymore. Please, I… need some time alone."

 **2**

Three days or so after the fight at Three Marys, Graham invited them out to the training grounds to see his progress. "A new Idea some of the Dead Horses made up," he said. "I think you'll like it."

When they arrived, they found a few dozen tribal's gathered in a small clearing nearby Grahams cave. There were respectful greetings for Ryder, Grace, and Ryder's father as they came to the clearing's edge.

Grace had gone into the clearing and joined the tribal's lining up nearby as Ryder took a seat on a rock, not knowing what any of this was about. When he saw her a few minutes later, her new armour now had pouches hanging from her hips and shoulders.

"Quite the getup," Ryder remarked.

"Graham and I thought it up," she said. And Ryder felt an admiring smile lift the corners of his mouth. She turned and walked to the front of the group of onlookers and faced a rock wall. Drawn in chalk was the outline of a man – or manlike being – with a frozen snarl on his face. Ryder recognised a White Leg when he saw one.

Graham nodded. "When you will, Deathclaw."

For a moment Grace only remained where she was, about twenty yards from the clay wall. Her hands lay in the centre of her chest, between where her breasts would be if she had any. Her head was lowered. Ryder watched intently, just what was going to happen?

His father came and sat himself down next to him quietly. Since Three Marys, Ryder had told him a bit about what was happening in the Mojave, but not much. His father cared deeply for his son, as all should do, but he never showed it – showing weakness was a no go. But he knew his son may never forgive him. Maybe one day, but that day was a long way away.

"Ryder…"

"Wait," his son quipped, focusing on the Deathclaw.

Grace raised her head. She looked at the shape on the rock. Still her hands lay on her chest. Then, her hands became a blur and dropped. They crossed her waist, the right claw seizing a concealed and oddly shaped knife from a pouch, left hand seizing another. Her arms rose up just beneath the ribcage, arcing out at shoulder blade height. Then they flew, crisscrossing in midair a moment before stabbing into the rock face.

Grace's arms finished straight out before her, she looked like she had finished a dance for a moment before they dropped and crossed, seizing two more knives. She threw them, dipped, and flung a third pair. The first two were still falling when the last two bit and sank into the chalk outline.

For a moment there was utter silence. No birds or nothing. The odd half moon-shaped knives had marked spots on the outline from throat to chest. She had thrown six in no more than three seconds.

Ryder started clapping. And the rest followed suit. Grace gave each direction a grateful nod and smile. Then the rest of the tribal's threw there knives in there turns, but none of them matched Grace's finesse.

"What is it?" the younger asked the elder.

"Never mind."

"Oh, well, I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"I need your help. Back in the Mojave, these 'Purifiers' are... I'm going to wipe them out."

"Are they after _you_?"

"Not exactly. Grace and her Pack were attacked by them. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"So you're going to kill off a group because they threatened a bunch of animals?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand. Your busy here, fine. Stay then."

"No no," He raised his hands. "Look, I've got to take care of… well… you know."

"Yes, I do."

"…"

"…"

"How's your mother?"

"Good. Having fun. What do you think?"

"Tell her that I'm-"

"No."

"-No-?"

"Go tell her yourself. I'm not… I _can't_ tell her this. About you…"

"You'll have to-"

"I don't _have_ to do anything for you, dad. Me and Grace are leaving today, Graham gave me these maps yesterday but Grace wanted to stay for one more day. Guess I now know why. Here." Ryder handed his father a few pieces of hand drawn maps on slips of paper.

His father remarked them then him. "You could've hidden these from me."

"Yeah, well, at least consider coming home, or whatever the hell the Mojave is to you. See you later, or not. Whatever."

"Ryder, wait."

Ryder got up. His father didn't try to stop him.

"Goodbye son," he said. But his son did not hear him.

 **3**

On their way back out to the main road where the White Legs first ambushed them, Grace said musingly: "I may give up using my claws altogether, Ryder, there's some satisfaction in the throwing and connecting. You ever throw knives before?"

 _Yeah,_ thought Ryder. _Crack aim too, ask your parents._

He shook his head of these thoughts. Just ghosts, they were, best to forget them. But Grace took his head shaking as a negative and offered to teach him.

"Maybe some other time," he said. "May I see one of them knives?"

It was certainly large in his hands. And the gripping was all wrong, he guessed it was modified specifically for Grace's hands. The half moon blade gave off a low reflection and he saw his one-eyed face looking back at him. It struck him then and there that his father had not once mentioned his missing finger or eye. Surely he had noticed?

He voiced his concern to Grace.

"He cares," she assured. She slid the knife into a shoulder pouch. "But he hides it. I think he's ashamed."

"So he should be," Ryder said. He didn't want to know if he was or not. He shouldn't have mention it in the first place. "So Grahams agreed to help?"

"Yep. Him and the Sorrows will follow us to the Mojave in a few weeks and meet us in Vegas. They'll be very powerful allies, hey? What about your father?"

He shook his head. She pressed the subject no further.

They passed the field the Happy Trails Caravan had been ambushed and killed. The bodies had not moved. The two of them climbed up a few cliff faces. They only looked out over Zion for a few moments before pressing on back to Vegas.

With the handy maps Graham provided, they passed through narrow passages that eventually broadened up and provided a much more quicker and efficient path back to the Mojave, where storms gathered over the old world city.

The return trip was much more calmer than thought. Perhaps it was because of the new light Ryder and Grace saw in each other, and as each night passed and one of them took watch whilst the other rested, whoever was awake would find themselves staring and thinking about the other.

After a few nights camped out in the Mojave outskirts, they made a reverse trip into the Northern Passage where they met Jed, and exited into the Mojave sun, which felt a lot more heavier and harsher then Zion's.

However, just before they could figure out where to go next, a strange, atmospheric sound of music hit their ears. It was somewhere off to the right of the cave mouth.

"Do you…" But Ryder didn't finish his question, because his feet took him in the music's direction and his mind drifted into near unconsciousness. He walked like some sort of Ghoul as he did. Grace watched him, lolled her head, and followed him. All thoughts were overcome by the music, which now included some sort of piano and trumpet.

They crossed a dune together, and the source of the music revealed itself to be the kind of machine that orbits the planet. It had little solar panels for wings, and its cylindrical body was half buried in the sand. Distantly, they had the feeling of being watched by said machine.

Ryder reached out a hand to the machine, delicately as if it would break at the slightest disturbance. Any rational thought that would let them know it was a horrible idea to examine this thing any closer, was gone. And just as his fingertips brushed the cold, cold steel, all vision went to blur, as if they both were all of a sudden tired.

The rest was darkness.

 **4**

Grace had the pleasure of waking up to the most pounding headache known to Deathclaw. The music was gone, and her mind cleared and began to tell her to get up. She did just that. But as she did, she noticed she felt a lot more heavier than before, and a quick scan of her body showed that there were odd, thin scars tracing along her neck and shoulders. Also, her armour was gone!

She was on a metal balcony on the top of a tower of sorts. She knew this because of the view she saw, which was of an incredibly large crater filled with water, with her tower being in its middle. She got to her feet clumsily, due to this incredibly heavy sensation that will take some getting used to, and looked around.

There was her human companion lying down face first on the grated floor. If she was not mistaken, his armour was nowhere to be seen either, and all he had on was a sort of gown that exposed his back and… bottom? Two… orbs of skin that she had never seen before. She realised she was staring, and quickly shook her head and crouched next to him.

She shook him a little, and called his name a few times. After a moment, his eyes flew open and stared at her wildly.

His _eyes…_

 _Two_ of them.

"You… Your eye!"

He looked at her accusingly, suddenly caught wind of her words, and blinked. "Wha…?" He raised his hand to it, but Grace grabbed it and brought it close.

"Your finger!?"

The one bitten off a while back, was here! All normal and without marks. As if it had never even been gone to begin with. From what she could see, his skin looked a little less for wear. And she scanned herself again to find out some of her own bruises and marks were either faded or gone altogether. She felt quite joyous to see Ryder like this once more. That eye reminded her of that day he had 'died'. But this only raised more questions. Where were they? How could this be possible, unless it wasn't some cruel dream.

Ryder got to his feet in the same fashion as one would do if they had been completely magnetised to the floor. He fell over after a few seconds of standing, and Grace chuckled for a moment before helping him up. He must feel heavier as well, maybe.

"Any idea how we got here?" she asked him.

"Uh…" He said no more. He looked very confused.

"There's a door over there. Shall we?"

She led the way into the tower, and descended down a spiralling set of soaked steps that dared her to slip and take the fast way down them. Her grip on the support railings seemed a little more firmer than she was used to. She felt she could crush them if she chose to. Odd.

At the base of the stairs was another thin door that opened up for her. Inside she could see a circular room filled with knee-deep water. Ryder came up beside her, looked inside, then at her, expectantly.

"Are you… alright, Ryder?"

"Er…"

"You look very… calm about all this. Then again so am I. Just what is going on?"

Ryder didn't answer. At least not directly. He preferred to find her face most fascinating to look at than to speak to. She felt a little bit worried, but before another moment could pass, she heard a voice come from within the next room, and it sounded quite annoyed.

"… WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS BELITTLE MY WORK. IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU, AND YOUR DAMN NEED TO CUT OPEN EVERY PIECE OF SKIN YOU COME INTO CONTACT WITH, WE WOULDN'T BE HERE!"

"… Me?" asked another voice. "You put those… thingies, into my chamber, what am I supposed to do? Skin was made for ripping, cutting, tearing, squeezing, jerking…"

"UURGH! ENOUGH OF YOUR WORDS ABOUT… LIMBS. HERE, CUT THIS BAD BOY OPEN AND WE'LL SEE IF AND WHEN WE CAN START TO CLEAN UP THIS MESS."

Grace put a hand on the door frame and leaned inside. In the centre of the room was a flashy console, and behind it was a… robot? Facing and talking to some sort of tube-machine that looked oddly familiar to the ones she had seen in the Sierra.

At her entering, the robot spun round and stared at her. Its 'head' was a large jar with a brain floating inside it, and extending out of its base were three metal arms with monitors attached to them. The monitors were arranged like a face, with two static eyes and a mouth in a constantly surprised gaze.

"I THOUGHT I HEARD THE PACIFICATION FIELD KICK IN. ALL RIGHT, SHHH. DON'T. MOVE. I'LL HANDLE THIS."

"I can't move – I'm bolted to the ground," said the machine behind the robot.

"SHHH! AHEM, OKAY. BE WARNED, INTRUDER! YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE MIGHTY… ER… REMAINS OF THE THINK… THE LAST COLLECTIVE GENIUS OF… WE…"

"… How about the Remnants?" suggested the machine. "Remnants sounds pretty cool."

"REMNANTS? HMM…. YES I KNOW. I AM THE REMNANTS OF THE THINK TANK AND I… WELL I UH… GREAT, NOW I FORGOT WHAT I WAS SAYING… WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?"

Ryder entered the room, looked at the knee-deep water that covered the floor, and drank up. Grace eyed him warily, then said, "Where are we?"

"DID… DID IT JUST SAY SOMETHING? TIFFANY YOU WORK WITH HUMANS, TRANSLATE."

"That's not a human, that thing _behind_ it is a human. That's a… well… I don't know exactly what it is. I _do_ know it had a brain, so it's not all bad, I guess."

"GREAT. JUST WHEN THINGS COULDN'T GET ANY WORSE THEY DO. NOW THERES LOBOTOMITES… EXCREETING ALL OVER VERY THING. TIFFANY, GET THE SPRAY!"

"They're not lobotomites, they're the two who came here from the signal we sent out – the skinvelopes, remember? About two hours ago?"

"I DON'T CARE WHO OR WHEN THEY CAME HERE, I WANT ITS LIMBS AWAY FROM MY CHASIS BEFORE I REGURGITATE MY GEL. I MEAN, JUST LOOK AT THOSE THINGS ON ITS HANDS! AND WHATS THAT THING BEHIND IT DRINKING ALL THE WATER FOR? DISGUSTING."

"Its thirsty of course! Poor things, probably haven't seen water in years the way there skins parched."

"USELESS EXTREMETIES!"

"It asked you a question, doctor, why don't you answer it?"

"IT DOESN'T UNDERSTAND US YOU PIEC OF… TIN METAL! LOOK, ILL PROVE YOU WRONG. AS USUAL. AHEM."

Its eye screens move on right up to her nose.

"LOBOTOMITE. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME?"

"Yeeees," Grace answered.

"CAN. YOU. SPEAK?"

"Yeeees!" Grace repeated. "Where are we?"

"THOSE WERE WORDS, WERENT THEY? IN THE FORM OF QUESTIONS. OH NO ITS ASKING ME QUESTIONS, WHAT DO I DO? HAVE WE CREATED A MONSTER IN PLAYING GOD?"

"I think while I was cutting it up with all my little cutters, I filled its skinvelope with… awareness."

"ARE YOU SAYING WE COULD… REASON WITH THIS LIZARD THING? THIS… THIS MIGHT BE THE CHANCE OF OUR LIFETIMES…"

"Answer my question, brain… thing. Tell me why you hauled me here, and what the hell's wrong with my friend?"

"THAT RESPONSE SEEMED DEMANDING, AS IF CUTTING TO THE CASE. ER, _CHASE_ … HEH, REMINDS ME OF…"

"Er, doctor, did you hear that buzzing? It's a transmission! From uh…"

"IT CAN ONLY BE…"

A much larger screen flickered to life from behind her. They all turned to see the image of another 'robot' looking much similar to this 'doctor', only one of the eyes was busted. Ryder also turned his focus to the screen, but he seemed rather uninterested in it.

"Well, well, well," the new robot said rather ceremoniously. "If it isn't my old colleague from the mighty 'Thing Tank' of Big MT. Big FOOL, you are. It is I, Dr. Mobius, transmitting from my dome-shaped… _dome_ in the Forbidden Zone. A zone that is, yes, _forbidden_ to you! Prepare, for the end."

After a pause, the end never came.

"Well, it WOULD be the end for your 'Think Tank' if the way over there wasn't filled with my one weakness: _water_! So, er, just wait there a moment and I'll uh, just… hmm. I'll be back for you! D-Don't you worry! … That's all. Er, goodbye!"

The screen closed down. Grace turned back to the doctor and its talking shower.

"MOBUIS," the robot snarled. "MAD AS THEY COME, DRIVEN INSANE BY HIS FLAWED KINDERGARTEN-LEVEL RESERCH METHODOLOGY."

"Yeah did you see his cracked monitor?" the talking shower asked. "Clearly gone mad after the, er, _incident_. Say, these lobotomites – I mean, patients – clearly posses some form of intelligence. Perhaps they can help us with getting out of here…"

"BUT YOU SCOOPED OUT THERE BRAINS! PUT THEM IN THE PIPES AND FLUSHED THEM DOWN TO MOBUIS' FRONT DOOR! WOOOSH! THAT IS THE SOUND OF FLUSHING."

Ryder found the best way to pass the time was to stare out a nearby window. Grace shook her head and said, "You… scooped out my brain? Our brains?"

"Yes, I removed them. Very squishy," the shower remarked. "One of them barely wrinkled… the other, well… let's just say you don't have to worry about addictions!"

"My brain…?" she whispered. "How am I… Is that why I'm so… heavy?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, that's because after the brain came the spine! Then the heart! Or was it heart then spine? Ah well, doesn't matter does it? You look quite capable without them!"

"But look at my friend! Does that look like capability?"

Ryder was like a determined fly who didn't understand how windows work. No matter how many times he tried, he just couldn't seem to get his hand outside.

"YOU MAY BE RIGHT, CROCODILE, BUT A METAL SPINE AND BRAIN AND HEART HAS A LOT OF PERKS! WHY, JUST LOOK AT ME! I HAVE NONE OF THOSE LIMBS AND I'M DOING QUITE SWELL! BODIES ARE TOTALLY OVERRATED. I MUCH PREFER TO BE SPINELESS."

"Yeah," agreed the machine. "I mean, it was odd, scooping em out. Man, I've never even seen a brain like yours Ms. Iguana! Tell me, are you some sort of… alien? Or no, maybe one of them creatures from the X-915 lab? Heard a lot of mean things go 'down' there."

"IT DEMENES ME TO SAY THIS LOBO- I MEAN, LIZARD – BUT WE NEED YOUR HELP."

"So you scoop out our brains, and now you want us to help you?"

"THAT IS CORRECT, YES. I HOPE YOU ARE NOT DEMONSTRATING RESENTMENT NOW. BECAUSE, NO, WE CANT HAVE THAT."

"Now hold on, doctor," Grace said. "Why is Ryder acting like that? What have you done to him?"

The Tiffany-thing answered, by the time it finished it sounded on the brink of tears. "Well, now that I think about it, when I was replacing your missing organs I may have gotten my patients a little… mixed up." It sniffed. "Don't look at me like that! I've never seen anything like you before, dragon! I mixed them up and I'm sorry, alright? You don't have belittle me I'm just an Auto-Doc, okay?"

"OH BOTHER, NOW YOU'VE GONE AND MADE TIFFANY SAD. MY PROCESSORS CANT IGNORE CRYING _AND_ YOU AT THE SAME TIME."

"So… he can't speak because his new brain is… wrong?"

"TO PUT IT IN PRESCHOLL TERMS, YES. IF HE HAD HIS BRAIN BACK… TIFFANY COULD PUT HIS THOUGHTS STRAIGHT. BUT TO GET IT BACK YOU'LL HAVE TO GO TO THE… FORBIDDEN ZOOONE! THAT'S WERE IT IS. YOURS TOO, MAYBE… NO, DEFINITELY."

"Alright, let's go Ryder,"

"Now, now, hold on," Tiffany warned. "You can't go out there!"

"And why not?"

"There's water everywhere! Inside and out! Nothing can traverse the Big Empty while its flooded so! Make a boat or something before you open that door!"

"Why's it flooded?"

"ASK THAT USELESS SINK," the doctor answered. "IT GAVE US A NEW DEFINITION OF CLEANING AFTER THAT OTHER LIZARD TOLD IT SO."

"… Other lizard?" Grace peered into those eye monitors. "What? Another Deathclaw?"

"IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE CALLED?... YES, YES, YOU'RE RIGHT. DEATH-CLAW. THAT WAS IT. THOUGH I RECALL VERY LITTLE OF HIM… OR WAS IT A HER? OH WELL, NOT THE POINT. YOUR BRAINS ARE WITH MOBIUS, AND SO IS THE TELEPORTER BAGATELLE – OR THE T-BAG FOR SHORT. THAT WILL GET US ALL INTO THE OUTSIDE WORLD, WHERE YOU CAME FROM, DEATHCLAW. DESTROY MOBIUS, GET YOUR BRAINS BACK TO TIFFANY, AND BRING THE T-BAG HERE, AND WE'LL ALL TELEPORT OUTTA HERE! GENIUS, AINT I?"

Grace deflated. She had the strangest sensation that this was the only way to solve all of this. She didn't know what was out there, and would need Ryder at her back if they were to get to this 'Forbidden Zone' quickly. "Is there no way to… _fix_ … Ryder's condition?"

Tiffany hummed for a moment. "There are some personality modules in the back room. Unless they've been soaked in all this water, I'd say he might temporarily regain his voice, though they're only experimental… Just jam them into the little slot on his left arm and boom! Module installed! You have one yourself, if you so choose. Don't worry, the modules don't change you THAT much!"

"WHATEVER YOUR DOING, DO IT QUICKLY!" the doctor huffed, and started to fiddle with some controls on a terminal. "THE WATER LEVELS ARE RISING. SINK! STOP FLOODING OUR BOWL!"

"… I'm sorry!" the 'sink' called from another room. "It's just… FILTHY! And please stop yelling at me!"

"I'M YELLING BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS TO ADJUST MY KNOBS! ER, MY VOLUME KNOB, THAT IS!"

Grace had the sudden impulse to ball her face into her hands. _How do I get myself into these situations?_

Ryder gave a short, high pitched laugh.


	24. Notice (Final)

**A/N:**

 **Starting Let's Begin Again almost one year ago, I had only intended for the story to end at the point where Ryder was shot in the head at the Goodsprings Cemetery, letting the chapters be only few, but of a higher quality. Chapter six was where I planned to stop.**

 **I was glad to see a good amount of praise from you readers. It inspired me to take the story just that much further. I had good plans on executing the Sierra Madre part of New Vegas involving a new member: Grace. But when I first started this story, I did not think through all the details. I did have a way I wanted to go, but recently I read back through all these chapters, and I can clearly see how poor my direction was. Errors, inconsistencies, and recently the chapters have been piss poor.**

 **I wanted to head through each 'DLC' part with our duo, Ryder and Grace. I wanted to expand their characters, give them fears, hopes, problems – not just make them fall in love over a few days. But in the end I realised one thing: this is just simply the New Vegas storyline, but with a talking Deathclaw. I tried making it unique on a whim. The Church being an example of a detour. But due to my own recklessness to progress the story, I find this has little in the way of vitality. Honestly I don't even know what I was thinking! Isn't that insane?**

 **I'm just trying to say that I've lost interest in Let's Begin Again. And since the time it's taken between the last chapters and now, I wouldn't be surprised if you were too.**

 **That being said, there's only a few things I can do. I will drop this story all together. I have other ideas for the Fallout universe, Midwestern or Commonwealth areas. Nothing to do with Deathclaws, probably. It's time I moved on from this and come straight with you all.**

 **I thank you all for your patience with me, and I'm sorry it had to end like his.**

 **If you are still interested, I'll put in a synopsis below, or a shortened version on how I'd planned Let's Begin Again to conclude.**

 **-SCBM**

Let's Begin Again

Last time, Ryder and Grace had been taken into the Think Tank's home, Big MT. However someone had already infiltrated the Think Tank, and had caused The Sink's… _sink_ , to flood Big MT in an attempt to clean the whole crater. The only robots left alive were Mobius, the auto-doc Tiffany, and Dr. Klein. Ryder and Grace would fight their way to Mobius. Once they encountered him they'd realise he meant no harm, and was in fact hitting Psycho when he sent them that transmission. In his lab they would find two brains, each one belonging to Ryder and Grace. It was a conversation I was looking forward to writing, having the brains interact with their bodies. After some convincing, the brains agree to return to their bodies.

Once the brains returned into their heads, Grace and Ryder gain some powerful side effects. Ryder's addiction is cured, and since his eye has returned he feels that much more ready to fight. Grace's bones are slightly more armoured, and her legs have been enhanced. The two 'cyborgs' gain support from Mobius and the Think Tank in their fight against the Enclave Remnants.

When they return to the Mojave, Ryder feels it's high time he pays his mother a visit. She isn't too happy to meet him after so much silence, but she invites him in to spend the night, and he explains what he's been up to since being employed by Red Lucy. When he introduces Grace, waiting patiently outside from a distance, 'awkward' is an understatement.

Grace recognises mothers voice, being one of the voices on Ryder's helmet she had taken after he'd been shot. There is not enough room in the shack for her, so she sleeps outside. Ryder joins her, receiving an odd eye from his mother.

The next morning they would depart for Vegas. Ryder's mother says she'll join the fight, and comes with them. When they enter the Lucky 38, Yes Man is there all and well, but with a mysterious guest. Its Corporal Ava, come to establish an embassy. To Ryder's family it is a true surprise. She shares the same tattoo over her eye like Ryder and his mum does. A distant relative thought to have died years ago. She agrees to Ryder's plan to destroy Bessie and Seth's forces, who are hired by the Bug Man – an Enclave officer.

They assemble all their friends made. Goodsprings sends a militia, as does Primm. Dean Domino and God/Dog come willingly after hearing of their exploits. Almost the entire Pack of Deathclaws walks through the gates of New Vegas, causing a fair share of worry among the population, even after explanations. Even Jace comes along. Big MT robobrains and other bots are already waiting to fight.

Just when they think they have everyone, Ryder's father appears at the gate. He is flanked by tribal's and wants to help. Ryder accepts, even after his mothers protests. With an army ready they move north, following Ava to the compound where Seth and Bessie wait.

As they make their plans of assault on the hills nearby, during the afternoon they are approached by another group, their leader being Red Lucy. Ryder pulls Lucy aside, to ask her what she's doing. Lucy offers her men and weapons, saying she wants to repay him for his services to her. Unknown to either of them, Grace is nearby, listening in on them. She puts together that they had obviously been intimate at some point, and she'd employed him to hunt and capture mutants of the wastes, but does not say anything to Ryder about it.

Ryder turns her help down, but does not mention Lucy's presence at all to Grace, even when she asked him if anyone else was coming.

From the north and south they attack the compound. After storming the gates and flooding the courtyard after heavy losses, Ryder and Grace, flanked by Deathclaws and humans, clear their way into the lower levels until they meet Bessie and Seth.

After a gruelling fire fight, which eventually resulted in hand-to-hand combat in the end, Ryder executes Seth with a point blank shot from his shotgun. Bessie is decapitated by Grace. When the smoke clears there is no sign of the Bug Man, but his notes remain. They leave them untouched.

When they emerge to the surface, Ryder confesses that he doesn't feel satisfied, that killing Seth and Bessie had no effect on him, and that so many had to die for vengeance. Grace sympathises, and tells him that it's over now. But she asks him why he lied to her about Red Lucy. He tries to dodge an answer, but this only angers her. She stands to go after Lucy for answers, but Ryder stops her.

He tells her she'd employed him to find eggs for her arena called the Thorn. Grace comes to her own conclusion. Ryder had always been inconsistent when he talked about the quarry. She remembered all the times he avoided her questions about it, she remembered how he looked and felt when she mentioned it.

She knew he had something to do with her parents deaths. But concluding that _he_ was the killer was unbelievable.

She runs after Red Lucy for answers. Ryder isn't fast enough to stop her. Grace confronts Lucy and demands an explanation. When Lucy admits to hiring Ryder to bring her eggs from a quarry, Grace comes to the conclusion she didn't want to admit.

Ryder was the source of all her pain. He did all this to her, just for a night in this woman's bed.

When Ryder tracks Grace down, it is one week later and she is out in the middle of a highway, just north of Vegas. It is there between the corpses of ruined sedans that he confesses his feelings for her. On how it was because of her that he was no longer an addict, that he was no longer a wondering scavenger in search for quick caps. That it was because of her that his life in the wastes has become so much more meaningful with her around, that he couldn't bare not being with her.

She stops, swinging her arms around to send him flying back a few feet. She asks him why he lied to her for so long, and that if he really did love her, why hide this for so long? When would he tell her?

He answers probably never.

She hurts him, on that highway. She punches and kicks and claws at him, making him bleed, hurting him like he did to her. It brings her to tears, and she eventually collapses. Ryder does not try to fight back and this angers her. When he confesses all over again, she remains silent. Deep in thought on what to do.

As he lay there, propped up by a rusted old-world car, with blood dripping from the many wounds she inflicted on him, he begged her to not leave. She knew it pained him to even speak now, but the pain he felt was nothing compared to her own. He betrayed her, there whole life together was all one big lie.

"Please," whispers Ryder, a long stream of crimson dripping from the corner of his lips. "Don't do this to me. We can start over, Grace. We can _Begin Again._ "

Tears stream down from her eyes as the Deathclaw, brought into this world by the addict before her, looks out across the desert below the highway – at all the nothingness. Her heart broken, she does nothing but sob.

"You can't leave me after all that." He grunts, clearly his arm is broken. Ribs too. For Grace this brings a small amount of pleasure. "Please, Grace. Forgive me."

For several minutes only their combined cries fill the air. Out here there was nothing. Out here no one would see her run him through. She wanted so desperately to end his life. But she couldn't will herself to strike anymore. Not at the man she loves.

So many emotions had been awoken by Ryder and his Mentats. If it wasn't for him she'd still be a wild animal. A ferocious, bloodthirsty Deathclaw. The thought of not having to deal with all these feelings was a blessing. _Ryder's fault_ , she thought. _All Ryder's fault._

"It's because of you I feel this way." She turns around, rubbing her tears away with a distracted hand. "I feel so human. I shouldn't feel this way around you but I do. You've killed me, Ryder. I have nothing left because of you."

"Please…"

"I can't forgive you. Not after all this time. Not after what _you did._ "

His sobs are harder. "Grace, I…"

"I loved you, Ryder. Don't… Don't follow me."

She continued up the highway at a pace so slow. Ryder called after her.

But she didn't answer.

"Kill me then!" she heard him yell. "You can't leave me like this!"

"Yes, I can," she whispered. Soon all she heard was the clicking of her talons on the concrete road.

Injured, Ryder made his way back to Vegas. Apparently the NCR and the Legion where on the brink of total war over Hoover Dam, the powerhouse of the Mojave, but Ryder was not interested in that. He went back to the church, back to the Four Pack leaders. Grace had told them what Ryder had done, but they were more forgiving than her. Apparently she had gone north in search of the source for the Dark One's that had been there burden for so long.

When he asked how Grace knew where the source was, they told him she find out from the compound. Ryder went back and looked over Seth and Bessie's terminals, until he crossed over the Bug Man's personal logs. Apparently the Enclave developed the mutated Deathclaws, and the lab they originated from was a pre-war town up north. Once Ryder put the directions into his pip boy, he gathered his things and set out after Grace.

He left his parents, Yes Man, Ava, the Deathclaws, everyone behind. He didn't care about the fate of the Mojave, only his dear friend Grace.

Once the Battle For Hoover Dam concluded, with Yes Man and an independent Vegas standing victorious, the people wondered on what had happened to the courier. The one who had made Vegas withstand the two superpowers influence. Many wondered if he ever found Grace again.

The only thing they could say for certain, was that he was never seen in the Mojave again.

 **End**

 **I'm sorry if you wanted to see all this elaborated, but I've thought long about what to do with this, and I didn't want to leave this without so much as a warning. I really want to move on, as I have a few new ideas and things for another Fallout story, and an AVP tale as well. I promise if there is another, I damn well will finish it to the end. My writing's changed a lot in one year.**

 **-SCBM**


	25. Rewriting

Hi everyone, recently I decided to re-write this story – toally different setting, new characters, lots of fun. Check it out on my profile, and thank all of you who supported this story. Hopefully you can too for this redux of mine.


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